


The Alternate Alternate

by toggledog



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Canonical Character Death, Cockles, Episode: s06e15 The French Mistake, Episode: s11e20 Don't Call Me Shurley, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Angst, Gun Violence, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Making Out, Murder, Oral Sex, POV Jensen, Post-Episode: s06e15 The French Mistake, Sexual Tension, Unrequited Love, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-24 14:33:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9762809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toggledog/pseuds/toggledog
Summary: Set initially just after the events of 'The French Mistake' and continuing to present time, in that 'alternative' universe to the Supernatural universe.Metatron reminds Chuck that he was always going to 'fix' the alternate universe, in which that universe's Bobby Singer, Castiel and 'Michael' (Eric Kripke) die. Chuck brings them back to life but decides he doesn't like that universe's 'Castiel', a self-obsessed actor named Misha. He decides to add in some traits from another universe's Misha, the one who's rather sweet and goofy and, furthermore, started his own charity. Chuck hopes the new Misha will rub off on all the utterly self-obsessed actors and producers on the television series.Jensen, meanwhile, has been having 'Dean dreams' in which that Angel-Actor guy has his throat slit and Eric Kripke and Bobby Singer are both shot.On set, he starts to notice the suddenly changed Misha a lot more.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, the actors and producers in this pretty much act like entitled assholes, to begin with (apart from Misha), and Jared and Jensen (initially, at least) don't get along. This is based on their hilariously shallow portrayal in that brilliant episode and obviously not on the real actors and producers.
> 
> This is also labelled with Destiel and Sastiel, because the Supernatural series in this AU universe will feature both.

_Dean and Sam finally had the key to unlocking heaven’s arsenal back in their hands. They rushed at the window bearing the sigil and smashed through backwards-_

Jensen jolted awake, his lungs and heart competing in a sprint race together, as his mind took a moment to familiarize itself with his bedroom.

Odd dream. Snatches still flashed through his mind; Kripke being repeatedly shot, followed by Singer, the angel-guy having his throat slit, by Virgil, Jensen as Dean fighting said angel.

What was the throat-slit angel guy’s name again?

Jensen searched his mind for an answer. Another moment in his dream entered his mind.

_“Misha? Your name is Misha?” Dean asked, incredulously._

Jensen snorted.

_Yeah, right. Misha. The mind really does play strange tricks, sometimes._

Jensen yawned, stretched, and caught sight of his reflection, in the mirror overlooking his bed.

“Well, good morning, handsome,” he said, winking at himself.

Seeing such a stunning reflection was always a great way to start the day.

 Speaking of which, he then withdrew the covers and rose to a standing position, to admire a closer reflection of himself in the glass sliding door of his walk-in wardrobe. There had to be a god, he told himself. After all, he ran his hands down his muscular frame, how else would his perfection be explained?

“Yes, by my god, you are so damned hot.”

Every day, he told himself the same thing. Every day, his reflection agreed. If he could make a double of himself, then he’d have sex with it and treat it as the absolute royalty that he deserved.

*

Jensen sat down in the makeup chair and picked up a Supernatural magazine lying on the counter nearby, bypassing the articles on Jared and flipping straight to the one titled “The Brilliance of Jensen Ackles”. As the makeup lady powdered his face, he started to read. Of course, the article talked in detail about how damned amazing he was; ‘such an incredible actor’, the article writer crooned. Certainly, Jensen felt inclined to agree. The article was almost damned perfect, if it wasn’t for the mention of his nemesis, Jared. Why did they always have to include him? He understood that Sam and Dean were close, in the show, but why confuse the fiction of their bond in the show, with the reality of the fact that, to Jensen, Jared was an intense douchebag?

A buzzing sound suddenly started irritating his eardrums. Jensen bit his lower lip and tried harder to focus on the article. The buzzing sound grew louder.

“Yes, Debby, how are the wedding preparations going?”

It turned out that inconsiderate noise was the Angel-Guy, who had just sat down beside Jensen and was smiling at the makeup woman. For a moment, she stopped with her pampering of Jensen’s face. He didn’t mind too much. After all, his gorgeousness scarcely needed makeup to enhance it.

“Oh, ah good! Er thank you, Misha? You know, I didn’t think that you knew!”

“We were just talking about it last week.”

“Were we? Oh, I must have forgotten.”

Jensen frowned and placed the magazine up higher. The Angel-Guy was weird, but at least he was preferable to Jared. The production, in an effort to appease both of the main stars, had taken to filming them separately as much as possible. This was much more desirable to Jensen, than to be in the same room as a man that made the bile rise in his throat, every time he caught sight of his irritatingly coiffed hair.

Jensen found it difficult to concentrate on this well-written and researched article; the prattle of the Angel-Guy and Makeup Lady was like an assault rifle firing into his ears.

“So, you’re quiet today.”

“Hm?”

He glanced to the side, to wide blue eyes staring back at him.

“Big night, huh?” Angel-guy said. “Anyway, I was going to say, about the fundraiser tonight, now this might sound crazy… but you should know how I operate by now… how about we go dressed as bees?”

“Are you taking to _me_?” Jensen asked, looking behind himself, with a sudden jackhammer pulse, before relief swept over him, after confirming that Jared hadn’t stepped into the trailer.

Angel-Guy laughed. “And people say _I’m_ weird. Anyway, so with the fundraiser-”

“ _What_ fundraiser?”

Angel-Guy’s brows furrowed. “Jensen, what’s up with you? The one that we’ve been organising for a week. The children’s hospital. So, I figure if we dress up like bees-“

“I’ll have to look at my schedule, but what’s my cut?”

“Cut?”

“What share of the profits do I get?”

For a moment, Angel-Guy simply stared at him, with those large eyes. Jensen shifted a little in his seat.

_Damned pretty but weird. Remember, Jensen? Don’t go there._

“None. It’s a fundraiser…. I’m sorry, I guess I was… confused…” His face crumpled a little. “Maybe it was just… a dream I had…Sorry, Jensen. I’ll leave you to your magazine.”

Those eyes finally flicked off him and Jensen relaxed a little.

He then caught the makeup lady’s eyes, and then smiled and winked. In return, he received a faint blush and titter.

Yep, damned right. Of course she had a crush on him. Who didn’t?

*

While filming, Angel-Guy, turns out his name actually was Misha… Hollywood types were weird…was an absolute pro, knew his lines, stood on his mark without looking down… okay, he did the weird starey thing, but Robert Singer had told Jensen that it worked, it added ‘sex appeal’. Jensen was a little confused as to how anyone else could add any more sex appeal than himself (he wasn’t even going to consider that imbecile Jared).

When the cameras were switched off, then this Misha-Angel revealed himself to be an absolute freak, once more.

Firstly, it appeared that he seemed to know all the crew by name, even down to the runner. Who the hell knew the runner’s name? Or particularly cared? And he seemed to know specific things about them; family members, ambitions, favourite foods. Jensen watched him carefully, wondering if this was a plan to ingratiate himself with the higher-ups, to keep himself on the show longer.

Yes, now that he considered it, it made sense. Misha just wanted more episodes. Jensen had to admire his craftiness.

Only it was never going to work. This was the Dean show. Always would be.

Jared and his wife came onto set later that afternoon, to do the few shots that he had to, with Jensen in the same room. Misha-Angel made a bee-line straight over to him.

“Jared!” He said, smiling warmly.

Jared jumped, as though spooked.

 “Hey… er…” Jared glanced to Gen, who mouthed the word ‘Misha’. “Misha!”

“So, the Democratic fundraiser tomorrow night…”

Loitering nearby, Jensen shook his head.

How many fundraisers did this guy go to in a week?

“I was thinking, it’s important to-“ Misha began.

“Hold on, what’s going on?”

“Aren’t we going together?”

Jared glanced at Gen.

“You want to come with us? Sure!” She smiled.

“Oh, I thought we’d already organized…I feel like an idiot… it was the dream again, wasn’t it?” Misha asked, bewildered expression crumpling his face.

“Let’s talk about this!” Jared said, to Gen.

“No, no that’s alright,” Misha waved them off.

Jared then gave his usual glare to Jensen, who glared back.

Well, he had to admit, at least the hostility between them made for great tension, and therefore great television.

*

The next day came the same routine. Misha talking to the makeup person, the extras, Jensen and Jared; pretty much everyone on the crew down to the runner, before sitting down to tweet. Well, at least that appeared to be characteristic of the guy. Jared, who usually refused to catch Jensen’s eyes, finally did look at him, furthermore, came over to where he was standing and examining the catering table. They had forgotten the kale chips again, which meant someone was going to have a Jensen style beat down.

“Okay, what’s the deal with the angel?”

“Huh?” Jensen felt admittedly distracted that day. He could still remember bits from his dream the night before. Again, he was Dean, coming to Sam’s house and being absolutely astonished that Sam was married to Gen/Ruby. Only Sam wasn’t Sam, Sam was Jared. No, Jared was Sam.

Jensen shook his head of the dream.

_Forget it. It’s just a sign this show is established now firmly in your subconsciousness._

“Don’t get me wrong, he seems nice and all… he’s just…” Jared screwed up his face. “Clearly one of those lefty-hippy-commie types.”

“Hey _you’re_ the one who actually votes. And democrat, at that,” Jensen pointed out.

“You should hear him talk! He’s been going on to Jim about wanting to ‘change the world’.”

 “What do you mean?”

“Oh, some charity he’s working…” Jared’s eyes flicked up and down the trenchcoated man standing at the edge of the set, where the designers were currently setting up the angel fire, in which Castiel was going to stand. Jensen observed Misha, in his conversation with an already-dressed-as-Bobby Jim, a long moment. When he wasn’t Castiel, he was far more animated.

“He’s fucking cute, though. I’d fuck him.”

With that said, Jared turned his back on Jensen, missing his eye-roll. Jared was straight, and mainly loyal to Gen, but he occasionally had men, just because... why not? The way it worked, in Hollyweird.

Of course, the angel… Misha… was ‘fucking cute’. It wasn’t as though Jensen hadn’t noticed. Damned pretty. Not as beautiful as himself, certainly, but then he as rather convinced that no one else was.

Jensen crossed the room, to stand before Misha, who was laughing at something Jim was saying.

_Okay, yes, so he’s damned pretty in a messy haired, puppy dog kind of way. So, what?_

 “So, Jared says you have a charity?” Jensen said, cutting into their conversation.

“Oh yes,” Misha appeared a little taken aback. “It’s called Random Acts of Kindness. The idea is that you do a random act of kindness towards someone and they then play it forward. Doesn’t have to be anything major. Even something small. I’ve been experimenting with different things…”

As he spoke, Jensen found himself drifting off.

_When did I eat last?_

 “… my followers with this massive treasure hunt… not really a treasure hunt but…”

_Bagel… yes could go a bagel._

“Mm hm…”

_With cottage cheese…_

 “… important to make a difference. I don’t want to sound cheesy. Okay, that sounds really swiss-holey cheesy…Do you ever look at swiss-cheese and think maybe in those holes are gateways to another dimension? You just have to say the right words?”

“What?” Jensen asked, as, beside Misha, Jim smirked.

Misha raised a brow, as though genuinely wanting him to answer such a ridiculous question. Jensen wasn’t sure how to even begin to try.

“So… no too-out-there jokes then… got it…” Misha muttered.

_What is he implying? That I’m stupid?_

“Maybe…” Jensen said, evenly. “It’s about the cutting of the cheese. Maybe you have to cut it a certain way and then say the words.”

_What the hell am I talking about? What is this?_

Misha appeared pleased. “Different words for different cheeses? Maybe, if it’s gouda it’s a different dimension then say, cheddar.”

“The best one would be blue-vein,” Jim said. “That would be a dimension of soft cheerleader pillow fights.”

“As in the fights are soft, or the cheerleaders?” Misha asked.

“Both.”

“So, it would be down to the density of the pillows and the density of the cheerleaders, then, as to how it would work,” Jensen said. It was perhaps the stupidest conversation that he had ever had.

He admitted that he was having fun.

Misha let out a soft giggle and Jensen felt an oddly pleasant fluttering in his stomach.

“Well, I guess if you add the fact that blue-vein-“ Misha began.

“Alright, we’re ready,” Robert suddenly called out, from the director’s seat hoisted high in his video village, looking down over the proceedings. “You three shut up and get to your marks!”

*

As usual, they were at least able to film something somewhat cohesive, despite the fact that Jared (with his stupid hair and too-tall frame and irritating smile) was on set. When filming finished for the day, Jensen yawned, allowing the makeup lady to start wiping the powder from his face.

Misha came over to him, smiling in a decidedly non-Castiel way. Jensen was starting to notice that this wasn’t the only difference between the actor and the angel. Misha moved a lot more languidly than Castiel, spoke a little faster, in a higher tone. In fact, the difference was so pronounced, that he wondered why he hadn’t noticed before.

“Poor Dean,” Misha said. “Still trying to convince himself that Castiel hasn’t gone mad with power.”

“I always think, that for a man who calls himself a cynic, Dean ultimately believes the best in people… often to his detriment,” Jensen said.

“I love it how Dean-“

“Misha!” A giant hand suddenly clamped down on Misha’s shoulder. “How are we?”

“Good, thank you,” Misha said, turning to the smiling Jared behind him.

“So, I overheard you talking to Jim earlier about Destiel.”

“Destiel?” Jensen asked.

“The community nickname for Dean and Castiel… together…” Jared said, in a slow condescending tone, before glaring at Jensen, and turning back to Misha.

“Oh…” Jensen considered this. “Well yes that makes sense… on Cass’s side, at least.”

Misha grinned at him. “I happen to think it’s adorable.”

“Of course, he would be in love with Dean. Dean is pretty amazing… of course, _I_ have a lot to do with that. Well me and the scriptwriters… but mainly me,” Jensen said.

The makeup lady wiped off the rest of Jensen’s makeup and then nodded at him and moved away, allowing him his grateful space.

“Yes well. . if the fan’s like it…” Misha said.

“Why should we care what the fans want?” Jared asked.

Misha’s eyebrows flew up to his forehead, as he looked from Jared to Jensen, with wide eyes.

“Er… because we’re making a tv series… which is propped up by them…”

“Nah, we tell them what they like,” Jared said. Jensen, for the first time in a long while, had to agree with him. “If it’s Destiel then fine. After all, Cass is an angel. I guess that makes him polyamorous?”

“I guess as long as it’s consensual, sure,” Misha said.

“I think we should bring in Destiel to canon, as well as highlight yours and Jensen’s bisexuality,” Jared said. “The ratings would go through the roof!”

_Misha is openly bi?_

Dean felt his pulse inexplicably pick up. It was because of the talk of ratings. Yes, that explained it.

“Anyway, while I’m here, I was thinking want to come to our house for dinner tonight with me and Gen?” Jared asked Misha.

“Ah, sure.”

“Okay and then we’ll have a threesome.”

Misha frowned. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m down with polyamory. My ex-wife wrote this book…” The frown deepened. “Can we maybe take a raincheck?”

“Sure thing,” Jared said, winking at him, before slinkily moving away.

Misha seemed a little stunned by Jared’s proposal.

_Damn, Jared is a dick._

Jensen caught him just before the exit door.

“What the hell are you doing? You’re not interested in him!” Jensen moved, stand between Jared and the exit, effectively blocking him.

Jared shrugged. “I told you. He’s fucking cute. And he looks like he sucks dick well, so…”

No, Jensen stepped aside and let him leave. No no no. He was not going to be upstaged by this self-obsessed pretty boy with the floppy bangs. 

Across the room, Misha was looking at them with a slight frown downturning his lips.

_Okay, plan of attack. How to do this?_  
*

Deep in thought about Jared’s clumsy come-on to Misha, Jensen was walking back to his trailer, when he almost ran into Misha moving the other way.

“Hey, I was looking for you,” Misha said and then looked around. “Where’s Jared?”

 “How the hell should I know?” Jensen said, folded his arms.

Misha shook his head. “I thought you guys were friends. Close friends.”

Jensen burst out laughing. “Us? We can’t stand each other.”

“Oh… it’s just… it’s weird…”

“What?”

“Sorry,” Misha broke out into a half smile. “I’m only a guest actor and I’ve been overstepping my mark.”

_Why this obsession, Misha?_

“Do you know something about me and Jared?”

Misha shook his head again. “Sorry. It’s nothing.”

“You did really well today. People seem to think that we have ‘chemistry’,” Jensen said.

Misha shrugged, smiled. Jensen found himself unconsciously smiling back.

“Look, I know a mean little Italian restaurant in the centre of Vancouver. Makes the best meatball spaghetti. How about I treat you?”

*

They never made it to the Italian restaurant. In the back seat of Clif’s car, Jensen placed his hand on Misha’s leg, before moving closer, to shove his tongue into his mouth. When Misha responded, with equal ardour, his leg flung over Jensen’s, body grinding against his, Jensen ordered Clif to take them back to his. So, that was it. So damned simple. Jensen made a mental note to brag to Jared the next day,  about how easy it was, to bag the ‘angel’.

Once inside his apartment, he realised that perhaps he pressed Misha up against the loungeroom wall a little too hard, judging by his flinch, as he smashed the back of his head against the plaster.

“Sorry!” Jensen said.

“Shut up,” Misha then slammed his mouth against Jensen’s once more, both of their hands pulling up t-shirts, and reaching into jeans, to touch flesh, as their tongues continued to lustily explore each other’s mouths.

“I have a confession,” Misha said, pulling a way, momentarily. His hair was the most mussed up that Jensen had ever seen, his face lightly flushed, eyes sparkling.  Jensen decided that he really needed to kiss him, and do a lot more, very soon. “I’ve been wanting to do this, from the first moment I saw you.”

“Well, can’t blame you for that one.”

Misha giggled and then started placing wet kisses on Jensen’s neck.

“I am the most gorgeous man alive. Who _wouldn’t_ want to make out with me? I mean, I astonish _myself_ , sometimes.”

Misha laughed again. “Oh yes, you are-“ He pulled back a little, to look at Jensen and all humour left his face. “You’re serious.”

“Of course I am. Come on, I’m Jensen Ackles.”

Misha’s expression was slowly turning to one of incredulity.

“What? Oh, come on, Misha. I was just agreeing with you that I am the most gorgeous specimen to walk the earth.”

“Alright, alright, let me go,” Misha’s expression was now a convoluted mess of disappointment and frustration.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” Jensen asked, stepping back from him.

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong with _you_?”

“What are you talking about?”

In his pale blue irises, he could see Misha working something out.

“Alright,” Misha now stiffened his body, as though intentionally steeling himself. “I _don’t_ think you’re the most beautiful specimen to walk the earth.”

Jensen felt his stomach suddenly feel as though it was being twisted into a series of intricate knots, an odd panic fluttering the walls.

“Why not? It’s Jared, isn’t it? You think Jared is… he’s not… he’s not better than me.”

“I think I’d better go. I’ll call a taxi,” Misha said, taking his mobile out of his pocket.

“Wait, I don’t… I don’t understand. What did I do wrong?”

“You know, it’s not even you, it’s me. Damn, that’s such a clique. But it’s true.  What an idiot I am, to think that the star of a show… I’m not even going to be in it much more after this season.” He placed the mobile to his ear.

“Misha…” Jensen floundered, reaching for him, but Misha turned away, speaking to the taxi operator. He hung up, his eyes momentarily catching Jensen’s and the looking away. “Should be here within ten minutes. I’ll go wait out the front.”

“Listen I’m… I’m sorry…”

This time, Misha did keep his gaze, clear pity on his face.

_No, don’t you dare. Don’t you dare pity me._

“I thought you were different. I was wrong. You’re just as shallow and self-obsessed as the rest of them.”

He then turned and stormed out of the house, before the shocked Jensen had a chance to answer.

Tbc...

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Robert Singer and Mark Sheppard are, like most other characters in this, kinda dicks. This is, again, in keeping with the shallow characters of the episode "French Mistake" and not meant to be taken as the real actor's personalities.

Jensen moaned, thumping his mattress in frustration. After the disaster of the night before, he was more than happy to go to bed without the usual Dean dreams. Only they continued, with little spurts of action; Dean and Sam forcing Clif to take them to the airport, to pick up illegal supplies, Dean and Sam talking to Misha about why they were stuck in a parallel world. The man, who they initially thought was Castiel, seemed confused as to why they were going off script.

Then the dream, itself, went off-script completely, with Chuck revealing himself to be God (well that would be a twist in the story, Jensen made a mental note to tell the writers this idea), talking to an angel named Metatron, in his study.

_“That other dimension… the one where you killed the director, producer and actor from the Supernatural series…” Metatron said._

_“Oh yes, I was having fun with that one,” Chuck, sitting opposite, took a moment from where he was strumming on his guitar, to grin at him._

_“You promised you’d bring them back and alter everyone’s minds so that no one remembers.”_

_Chuck sighed. “I did say that, didn’t I? Maybe I won’t make them forget entirely. Oh, and by the way, that version of Castiel I don’t like.”_

_“The actor. He’s human. He’s an actor, in that dimension,” Metatron said._

_God shrugged. “You know what I mean. Anyway, he’s arrogant and vain, in that dimension, like the others. Think I’ll bring him back with the temperament of one of the more likeable ones from the other dimensions. I do like the one from the dimension who started the charity… he’s rather fun. Maybe I’ll give this Misha a fair few of that other one’s qualities.”_

This time, when Jensen clambered out of bed and looked at himself in the mirror, he noted the dark circles under his eyes. His hands shook.

 “I’m not going crazy!”

It seemed that his reflection was inclined to disagree.

*

Two days later, Misha was back on set. Jensen spotted him straight away, standing outside of the makeup trailer and talking, in subdued fashion, with Sebastian. For the first time in a long while, Jensen was unsure of what to do; should he try and speak to him? And say what, exactly?

“Hey, Misha, I know we completely failed to get off with each other the other night, but anyway, forget that. I’ve been having strange dreams. Wanna hear them?”

Jensen shook his head.

But then, hadn’t Misha talked about having odd dreams, himself? What was going on here?

_Forget it, Jensen. After the disaster of last night, I seriously doubt that he will be wanting to talk to you._

“Jensen!”

Jensen stumbled forward, flinching, as Robert slapped him hard on the back.

 “Team meeting in five. Important things to talk about.”

*

Misha, Jared and Jensen stood in a line before Robert’s script strewn desk. Out of respect for both the cringeworthy previous encounter with Misha, and the fact that he couldn’t stand Jared, Jensen deliberately stood as far away from the other two, as possible. Not that he realised it mattered too much. He may as well not even be there, judging by the way neither of them looked at all in his direction.

“So,” Robert, seated languidly behind the desk, clapped his hands together. “I’m actually here to talk about Misha.”

“Me?” Misha said.

“Misha, you have been a… okay pardon the cheese but it’s true, godsend. Ratings have shot up since you’ve come on board. People are crazy for the angel.”

“Oh…Thank you,” Misha looked to be rather touched.

“Plus, there’s the fact that you’re also ridiculously popular on set. Anyway, so Eric and Sera discussed your positive effect on both the ratings and the crew. They have something really important to tell you and have relegated the task to me… figures…” He ended with an irritated tone.

Jensen’s eyes wandered across to Misha, who was, in turn, gazing at Robert, with clear anticipation.

“You’re fired! Oh, I’ve always wanted to say that, in that way. Do you think I said it as well as Donald Trump? The Apprentice is my favourite-“

_What? Misha’s fired?_

“I’m fired?” Misha said, in a small voice. “I don’t understand. What did I do wrong?”

“You’ll do two episodes in the next season… oh, don’t worry, we plan to have you go out with a ‘bang’,” Robert chuckled.

“Why are you letting go of Misha?” Jensen’s voice rose.

Robert looked at Jensen as though he had just asked him if it was true that one plus one equalled two.

“Because he’s so popular, he’s taking all the attention away from us! Particularly from you two. The show is about the brothers.”

“I would argue that Castiel _adds_ to the show, especially his relationship with Dean,” Jensen said, while Misha looked down at his feet and Jared stared forward, with an abjectly bored expression. “How many times can we go through the same act with the two brothers? They fight, they make up, one sacrifices himself for the other. They need regulars around them to bounce off, to tease out bits of their personalities.”

“Look, we’re not making Citizen Kane here. As long as you guys look gorgeous and kick ass, that’s all the public want,” Robert waved him off.

“I think what the public wants is a good story told well, with interesting characters,” Jensen insisted.

“No, the public are morons,” Robert said. “Believe me. Jensen, I think you’re thinking about this too much. You are… you’re both... insanely handsome. And yes, not bad actors. That’s all you need to be. Get the girls panties wet, give the guys hardons.”

Jensen could suddenly sense Misha looking straight at him. He flicked his eyes over, to note an almost Castiel-like curious expression on the other man’s face.

“Look, the angel is dead and that’s it!” Robert said.

Misha left the room quickly. Jensen went to follow, only to be stopped by Jared.

“You know he’s right.”

Jensen turned to look at him. “No, he isn’t.”

*

Jensen tapped on the glass of his fish tank, grinning at the multi-coloured fish, before sitting down at his desk and opening his laptop, before switching it on. In a google search, he wrote the name ‘Misha Collins’. The Wikipedia page did not yield much information. Divorced, with two young children. Turns out the wife did write a book on polyamory and threesomes. Jensen’s brows shot up. Bit parts here and there, before Supernatural. His greatest shame, a recent movie where he played serial killer Paul Bernardo. Jensen flicked out of the Wikipedia page and then clicked into Misha’s twitter account.

_Ola mishamigos! J2 got me good. Really starting to feel like one of the guys._

 As he scrolled down the feed, Jensen couldn’t help but smile to himself.

_My phone was stolen and apparently cast into a parallel universe devoid of magic. I've retrieved it. I promise it won't happen again._

Every so often, he’d come across a line that would make him laugh out loud.

_Having fun on the show about the two underwear model brothers who are always hallucinating ghosts._

Of course, it turned out that Misha was, indeed, a bit of a lefty-commie-socialist.

_Let’s join forces and support the ACLU._

_Don’t let pain make you hate._

_Last chance now to join GISHWHES and make a difference in the world._

Jensen closed the laptop, biting his lower lip. So, this was Misha.

He had the funniest feeling that he’d made an awful mistake.

*

“Hey, Susie…”

The woman organising the food on the catering bench jumped.

“I have the kale chips you want, Jensen. I made sure that I-“ She spoke quickly, her face paling slightly.

“So, how’s ah…?” He suddenly realised he knew nothing about this woman. “How are… things?”

“Er… good…”

Both stood awkwardly a moment. Jensen wondered how the hell Misha achieved this ‘talking to people’ situation.

“I’d better go,” she said.

“Okay, sure.” Jensen scooped a load of kale chips into a plate and turned to watch the busy set. Kevin was setting up a camera shot. Jared stood in one corner, talking to Sebastian. Misha sat by himself in the other, script in hand. Jensen simply watched him a moment, before deliberately lengthening his spine and stepping over.

Mark cut across in front of him, seemingly appearing from nowhere.

“Misha! Misha Misha Misha…”

Misha put down his script and looked up at him. Although Misha was favouring Mark with his usual friendly expression, it didn’t quite meet his eyes, as when he talked to other people on set. Jensen came to the sudden realisation that Misha didn’t like Mark, and was, at this point, not trying too hard to hide it.

“So…” Mark sat down beside him. “Terrible about the whole being sacked thing… Of course, I’ve been contracted to continue on for a while both next season and… who knows? But then, you know. I’m pretty damned good.”

“That’s nice,” Misha looked down at his script once more, with a distinct grumpy look on his face. Jensen was surprised. It was usually not like Misha to be so dismissive. But then he had been fired, that day. He was allowed to be in a bad mood.

 “Look,” Mark seemed undeterred by Misha’s standoffishness. “If you want to go back to my trailer, I can make you forget all about that unfortunate sacking. Okay, I’m talking about sex.”

“…right…” Misha didn’t even look up from the script.

“I’m just trying to get into character, that’s all. Crowley would definitely bugger Cass, given the chance.”

“You’re probably right… actually, I’d say you _are_ right. I’ll pass on the sex, thanks.”

Misha stood up.

“Your loss,” Mark said, shrugging, and then picked up the script that Misha had dropped onto his chair, as said man came towards Jensen.

“Misha?” Jensen said, feeling hopeful.

“There aren’t many women on this set and all of the men appear to be gay, or bi,” Misha said. “Obviously, as a bi man myself, that isn’t a problem. It’s just... it’s like a slash girl fan’s best fantasy.”

“A what? No, Mark isn’t bi! Nor is Jared, for that matter,” Jensen said. “They’re married! And not to each other. What I mean is they’re just… actors. You know, get an orgasm from anywhere, as long as it’s consenting. Doesn’t have to fit with their exact sexual orientation. Well, not anyone, they do tend to like their men ‘pretty’... not that you look like a woman, at all…” He suddenly realised that he was talking too much and felt his face start to heat up.

_Maybe just shut up, huh, Jensen?_

“Charming,” Misha said, rubbing his face. Jensen suddenly noticed the dark circles underlining his eyes.

“Look,” Jensen lowered his voice. “About last night…”

Misha held up a hand. “Don’t…”

“I’m sorry, I just… I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Let me make it up to you. How about we go out again, tonight? Please?”

Misha appeared hesitant. “Okay… what do I have to lose? I’m fired, anyway, right?”

*

“Okay, everyone, that’s a wrap!” Robert said, as the bell sounded.

The entire group of very tired looking crew around him started to clap.

“Okay, so we’ll finish Misha’s scenes from the beginning of season seven in the next few days, just so that we can get rid of him. Everyone is invited back to the greenroom for celebratory end of season six drinks. Except for you, Misha... .no point as you’re pretty much fired,” he said, to the now open mouthed actor. “But everyone else! Come along!”

“Yes, thank you for being a selfish prick!” Misha, standing beside Jensen, muttered under his breath.

“Alright, how about we get out of our Cass and Dean attire and then leave?” Jensen asked.

‘You’re not going to the party?”

“They didn’t invite you. What dicks!”

Misha’s corresponding smile would have lit up the entire room.

*

The quality of the food had gone down since he was there last. Jensen figured that they must have hired a new chef. The pasta, in particular, felt a little too rich and buttery. Not that he was too concerned, though, when his company was so great.

Misha was currently smiling, as he looked at Jensen’s mobile, before turning the phone around and showing Jensen a picture of himself, from his ‘Days of Our Lives’ days.

“I looked so young there!” Jensen admitted, squirming a little in his seat.

“Yes, I’ll be getting the walking frame to you in a moment, grandpa,” Misha said, wryly.

“I can’t say I’m… proud… of that early work but, I guess…”

“Gotta start somewhere.”

“Exactly.”

“Oh but you were so pretty though,” Misha flipped the phone back towards himself and then turned it, so that it was now vertical. “A bit baby-faced. You look a lot better now.”

“Well, yes, I know that.”

Misha shook his head. “We’re not starting this again, are we?”

“Why can’t a guy have good esteem? I am objectively very beautiful.”

“Alright, whatever you say Narcissus. Try not to fall into the pool of your own reflection and drown.”

“Actually, that’s not how the story goes. The story is that Narcissus saw his own reflection and didn’t realise that it was a reflection. He fell in love with it. But it couldn’t be reciprocated. So he committed suicide.”

“Hm… you continue to surprise, Ackles,” Misha said, with a twinkle in his light eyes.

*

“I don’t know, with the twitter account… it’s just… fun, that’s all. I don’t take it too seriously. It’s pretty much a character that I’ve cultivated. This slightly insane guy who’s obsessed by Queen Elizabeth. The fans love it.”

“Queen Elizabeth?”

“As in the current queen,” Misha said, still twirling a piece of spaghetti around his fork.

“I’ve seen pictures of her when she was younger. She was a looker.”

“Hey, don’t be so ageist. She’s a looker _now_. I’d smother her in honey and lick it off.”

Jensen shook his head and laughed, a little.

*

“…that’s why we need to look at the ecosystem of the ocean. We mess that up,” Jensen’s voice rose, with his passion. “We destroy ourselves. There are so many things… just so many… did you know that dolphins have names for each other? Marine scientists have found a distinctive whistle, to identify each other. They’ve also discovered specific wavelengths of frequency between them, which means they talk to each other. It’s incredible. If I could, I’d have a friggen dolphin in that fish tank. Maybe two. Only, obviously, I’d make it a lot bigger.”

Misha was regarding him with a cock-headed, almost Castiel style look.

“Brains as well as beauty,” he sighed.

*

Misha gulped down another spoonful of what Jensen thought to be subpar chocolate mouse and continued talking.

“I just want to… I just want to smash it all from within, and, to me, the best way to do this is with humour. Show up the inadequacies of society with humour. I mean, come on, society is pretty damned hilarious at times.”

“See, for me… I’m just one man. What can I do? I have my charities that I give to, the Alzheimer’s Association, American Cancer Society and Operation Smile. Probably not much, compared to you but I am glad to give back, just a little,” Jensen said.

“Well, we are in the position to. A lot more than other people. We are very blessed. We have a good life, wouldn’t you say?”

Jensen considered the question, looking around at all the well-dressed seated people enjoying their meals, and the rather stressed looking waiters and waitresses rushing from table to table. For the first time ever, he wondered what they were earning, and then decided to leave their waiter a massive tip.

“Yes, we have.”

*

Jensen was laughing so hard his stomach ached, his lungs aching for air. Misha himself had tears running down his face, his hand over his stomach, as he too let loose loud guffaws.

*

Jensen pulled up in the curb a few spaces from Misha’s hotel and stopped the car.

“Well, here we are. It’s been-“ Jensen said, as, beside him, Misha unclipped his seatbelt.

Misha’s mouth was suddenly in his, tongue ferociously trying to explore all of his interior. They pulled away, panting.

“Come inside,” Misha said, in a husky voice.

Jensen felt incredibly tempted, but then told himself that it wasn’t possibly the right move to make, at that point.

“You know I…It’s been such a good night. I figured I’d leave it on a high note… before I mess up again.”

“Oh, if you’re going to turn down hot sex…”

“It’s tempting but…again I… I really want to leave it here, before I act like a dick, again.”

Misha smiled and nodded. “Fine then,” he leant forward and pecked Jensen on his lips. “Dick.”

*

Misha moaned, as his tongue continued to scorch Jensen’s mouth, hand tugging his shirt up, to grip at his hip, pulling Jensen closer to him, on the rather nicely cramped couch. They pulled apart, and Jensen caught the mischievous grin on Misha’s face. The initial idea was for Misha to come to the trailer to look at Jensen’s fishtank, while the set had broken up for lunch. Only, Jensen realised, they were never going to look at the fish. As soon as they entered the trailer, they fell back onto the couch nearby, legs, arms and mouths entwined.

“We need to get back on set but we have a problem,” Misha said, looking down at their combined erections. He was wearing Castiel’s trench coat and tie and looked almost unbearably gorgeous, in his usual mussy-haired way.

“We’ll have to find a way to resolve it,” Jensen's fingers deliberately brushed Misha’s erection.

“Thinking about…Barack Obama with diarrhoea and vomiting at the same time.”

“Why him?”

“Because I think it would be hot.”

Jensen burst out laughing.

“You really are weird, you know that?”

Misha shrugged. “That’s me.”

Jensen leaned forward. “Yes, it is.” He then engulfed Misha’s mouth in a kiss, once more.

*

When they came out of the caravan a few minutes later, having successfully talked their erections down (although Jensen would have preferred to take care of it in a more intimate way), giggling with each other, Jensen looked up, to see Jared walking past.

_Well… damn…_

Jared’s face lit up in surprise, before he turned his head away and quickly shuffled past.

*

Misha’s- Castiel-Cass’s last scene.

Jensen-Dean held the trench coat in his hands, looking out to the water, and feeling the weight of all that he, the character, had lost.

“Cut! That’s a wrap!” Robert said, from behind the camera.

Feeling an odd anxiety bubbling away inside him, he watched the other crew members go away to converse with each other. A few slapped Misha on his shoulder, a few more, including Jim, who’d hung around to watch him, wished him luck.

When Misha finally came over to Jensen, his expression was rather dour.

“I’ll see you again, right?” Misha asked, an almost pleading look in his eyes.

“Of course!”

“Well, I ah… I hate extended goodbyes so…Give me a call some time.”

Jensen watched him then walk towards the makeup trailer, wondering if he should follow him.

Heavy footsteps signalled Jared behind him. He felt his entire body tense, waiting for the inevitable snide remark.

“Shame he has to go. I liked him. He will be missed,” Jared said, sounding as though he meant it.

Yes, Jensen thought. He will.

Tbc…

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, reminder that this is all in this writer's crazy mind. None of this is meant to at all represent any of the real people in the fic.
> 
> Also, past Jeffrey/Jensen referenced in this chapter.

In the breaks between filming, Jensen always went back to his parents’ home, in Dallas, before returning to his Vancouver house. As soon as he stepped inside his old room and placed his suitcase on the bed that his mother had affectionately made for him that very day, he felt a serenity unparalleled to when he was filming. Back at home he was able to enjoy good home cooked meals and watch terrible old sitcoms that his parents disconcertingly seemed to love, with Missy, the now-so-old-she-could-barely-move German Sheppard snoozing against his legs. In the morning, he would go out for a jog, relishing the brisk wind on his face. There was no one to answer to, or order him around, paradoxically, no one to give him everything that he wanted. One time, early on in his career, after arriving back home, he ordered his mother to wash his clothes. Her reply was a not very polite way of telling him where he could shove the attire, with ‘that attitude’.

It didn’t take much to settle back into the lifestyle. Every so often, he’d text old friends and go over to their houses for a few beers. Nothing too extreme. Mainly, he was happy simply to relax in his room, tinker about on the internet, watch old movies or read old books.

He didn’t think of Misha. No, not at all. Okay, not much. It wasn’t as though the man occupied his thoughts. It wasn’t as though he felt a little hurt that he hadn’t heard from him at all in three weeks. The man was just a summer fling. That was all.

No, he didn’t peruse his twitter once…. Twice… okay at tops three times a day. Oddly, Misha hadn’t updated in two weeks. Jensen didn’t start to set up his own twitter account, before deleting it.

*

Jensen was lying in bed reading the latest GRR Martin, when the text came through. Placing the book down on the bed, he rolled over and took his phone off his charger. The text was from Misha. It read:

_Sorry I have been so dreadfully anti-social. Life as a D grade has-been actor without a job is just such a thrilling time I have no time for such inanities as texting a man I made out with a few times._

The second text read.

_Damn. Well, that’s ironic._

Jensen laughed and texted back.

_Can’t Lizzy just hook you up?_

He suddenly realised that Misha might not comprehend that he was referencing his favourite twitter joke, Queen Elizabeth II.

The ping of another text came through.

_That’s Miss Madam All Bow Down to Her Majesty Lizzy to you. And yes, she can get me the lead in the next Marvel film. I just don’t want to be her toy boy. Surely, she respects me more than that._

Jensen laughed again and texted back.

_No, she doesn’t._

Within seconds came Misha’s reply.

_Damn… again not just a pretty face… The reality is, I’ve just arrived back from two weeks of Buddhist retreat. No mobiles allowed._

Buddhist retreat? Jensen was intrigued by this new information.

*

The next day, Jensen came out of the shower, to realise he had received a text. This one again from Misha.

_Trying to settle a bet. Who would win on a game of Jeopardy? Paul McCartney or Mick Jagger?_

Jensen took the mobile off the charger to reply.

*

That night, Misha texted again, this time telling him his recipe for spaghetti.  A few hours later, a photo with a book that he was planning to read his child, before bed, bearing the title “Go the Fuck to Sleep!” The caption read ‘It’s been a long day’.

The texts continued. Almost every day, something new, snap shots of Misha’s life. Jensen found himself randomly texting him about his own life. When Misha sent Jensen a shot of himself lying down with his incredibly adorable two young children snuggled asleep against him, with the caption ‘Experimentation in the lab went awry. I seem to have now grown two extra bodies on top of my own,’ Jensen sent him a picture of himself with Missy, and then rethought it. This was Misha’s children, the most valuable and precious humans that he had helped to create. And Jensen had replied with sending a picture of his dog. He wondered if he was being offensive. Misha instantly replied by asking questions about the dog’s arthritis.

*

After a few weeks of texting, Misha finally called.

“Why does this feel like we’ve been internet dating?” He asked. Jensen had forgotten how gentle his voice was.

“So, how are things with you?” He asked.

Misha sighed. “Still looking for work.”

“I’m sorry. That truly sucks.”

“Yes well… life. Guess I could go back to being an EMT or corral horses or something…”

“You were an EMT?”

“Trained but no… didn’t officially work as one, as such.”

And thus, phone conversations replaced texting.

*

Jensen always felt a bit nervous, arriving back on set after such a long break. Everyone seemed foreign to him, and there was a combined sense of both familiarity and distance. As the makeup woman placed powder on him, he asked her how she was going. The woman looked at him as though she’d never seen him before, and then replied. The awkward conversation soon faded to nothing. Jenson wondered what Misha’s trick was, to keep the flow of conversation so steady.

*

Soon, the familiarity started to become routine. Jensen kept mainly to himself, hiding out in his trailer between shots and texting Misha, keeping him updated on filming, while Misha kept him updated on his own rather ramshackle current life.

Then Jensen received the script for ‘Death’s Door’. He read it through, then placed it down, frowned and read it through again.

Yes…. Yes, that happened.

Jensen clambered up, swung open his trailer door and rushed across the lot to the set, asking everyone he saw where Robert was. He finally located him coming out of the men’s toilet.

“I just received the script for the next episode…” Jensen began.

“Yes, wonderful, isn’t it?”

Feeling movement beside him, Jensen glanced to the side, to Jim standing beside him.

“You’re killing Bobby off?” Jim asked.

“This is the first time you know about it?” Jensen asked, feeling rather shocked.

“Well you see, Jim, Bobby is not the demographic that we want, here on this show,” Robert explained. “A grizzled hunter with some pretty bad split ends? No, we’re thinking of adding another parental figure in Dean and Sam’s life. One with really great hair highlights.”

“But Bobby is like the glue for Sam and Dean, he’s their one link to their father. He’s been built up, over seven seasons.” Jensen said.

“Yes, and this is precisely why it’s time for a change!” Robert said. “We’re thinking of bringing in more of a James Bond type. Picture this. Ex-assassin for the MI5. Likes women and really fast cars. Has a really hot younger girlfriend.”

“First Misha and now this? This is ridiculous!” Jensen said.

“Look, we’re not planning on introducing Callum Kripke until the next season, anyway. Before then, you will still be in a few episodes, believe you me,” he said, to Jim.

_Callum Kripke?_

“Sounds terrible!” Jensen said.

Robert placed a warm hand on his shoulder.

“Look, we all know you’re all upset about that angel guy leaving. But this is a television series. It’s all about good ratings.”

Jensen caught Jim’s eyes and the man gave a small, defeated shrug.

*

“They’ve made the wrong move,” Misha’s face loomed rather large, over Skype. “The ratings will plummet, you’ll see. Bobby was a fan favourite.”

“So were you,” Jensen pointed out.

*

Misha’s prediction turned out to be true. Ove the next few weeks, as the news spread that both Castiel and Bobby were rumoured to be killed off in the next season, ratings for season six, currently showing on network tv, plummeted to extreme lows. What Jensen did find remarkable, however, was that no matter how low the ratings declined, the producers continued to insist they were still making a high rating show.

*

 _Big surprise!_ Misha texted.

 _Oh yeah? What?_ Jensen replied.

_Can’t say. Just know that it’s good news._

Jensen placed his phone in his pocket, intrigued, before turning back to the set, where Jared was being punched, in a choreographed fight. Although it was only ‘acting’ Jensen was having a lot of satisfaction watching.

*

“Okay, goodbye, Jim,” Robert said, and then returned to his dailies.

Jared waved at the older man, and then turned back to laughing with Mark.

Jensen could see Jim scanning the disinterested set, with an expression of anger, hurt and disappointment, before slinking out of the room.

_No, this can’t… this shouldn’t end like this._

Jensen ran after him and caught him in the adjoining corridor.

“I’ll miss you,” he said, pulling the other man into a hug, which Jim returned, his arms strong and warm around him. Jensen’s father was not the tactile type. Hence, Jensen had forgotten how comforting it was, to be held in such a paternalistic manner.

“Sorry I’ve been a dick for… for so many years,” Jensen said, pulling away from Jim.

“Yes, I’ll miss this,” Jim said.

“Who knows? Maybe you’ll be back one day.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

For a moment, Jensen considered asking him for a drink some time. But then, he realised they had barely spoken the entire time Jim had been on the show. He felt an odd pang in his stomach.

“I’ll be seeing you around,” Jim said.

“Yeah,” Jensen could barely get the word out, as he watched yet another actor walk away from the set.

*

Jensen swallowed, his fingers fidgeting against his jeans.

“Er… Jared?”

“Yes, Jensen?” Jared looked up from the script he was reading, to regard him in that condescending way of his.

“I wondered if you wanted to maybe get a drink with me.”

Jensen gritted his teeth against the whistle from Mark, behind.

“We’ve never gone out to get a drink together!” Jared said.

“Well, let’s start now, then,” Jensen smiled, trying really hard to ignore the blood whooshing in his ears.

*

They ended up at that rather seedy bar with the stuffed animals, a few minutes from the set. As they ordered drinks, Jared kept looking at the animals and then at the barkeep, with a thoroughly disgusted look on his face. Sporting a couple of beers, they then retreated to a more secluded table in the corner, next to the stuffed ostrich.

“I’m really uncomfortable here,” Jared admitted. “Who does this? Stuffs dead animals and then puts them in a bar? Is that…” He leaned closer to the stuffed bird. “Yep, the ostrich has tinsel around it’s waist!”

Jensen glanced at the ostrich and then shrugged, taking a gulp of his drink.

“So, is there any specific reason why you invited me out?” Jared enquired.

“I just…I just wanted to talk things through. You have to admit, we haven’t been getting along, lately.”

“We have never gotten along! Why start now?”

Jensen forced a smile to his face. “Why not?”

For a moment, Jared simply looked at him, a thoroughly exasperated expression on his face, which then dissolved to something more complicated, yet more raw.

“Look, I tried to be nice to you, to begin with, remember? I tried to talk to you about how excited I was to be working on Supernatural. _You_ were the one that gave _me_ the cold shoulder.”

“I did?” Jensen tried to think back to those first few days on set. It was so many years ago, felt like a lifetime.

“Yes, I remember. You just stared at me like I was a piece of shit and then walked away. Like you thought you were above me.”

_Oh no! He doesn’t get to do this. He doesn’t try to make me the asshole!_

“No, it’s _you_ who thinks you’re above _me_!”

“See, this is the problem. I’m trying to explain to you how I feel and you’re all getting defensive!”

“You have always just decided that I was the one with the problem.”

“That’s because you are! I wanted to be good mates, you asshole!” Jared said. “I thought how cool it would be, to have a good friend on set. Especially my main co-star. But you were the one who treated me like I was nothing. I can’t… why am I even here?” He stood up.

“Don’t go… look, I’m sorry…Truly…”

“You mean that?”

Jensen nodded.

Jared sat down and took a rather large gulp of his drink, slammed it down on the tabletop and then stared at the glass, a long moment.

“I wanted to be friends with you. I wanted to be friends with everyone. But everyone was just so… I don’t know…After a while, I just gave up. But then a few people came on set who really tried, Alona, Rob, Misha, Jim…” He closed his eyes, took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking lately that maybe I haven’t exactly been Mr. Welcome to the Set Guy, either. The funny thing is, I actually liked them. I really did. I just never let them know. Isn’t that weird?”

“I don’t know what happened either,” Jensen admitted. “I guess we were just caught up in ourselves.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Jensen took a sip of his drink, trying hard not to think about Misha, or Jim, the look on his face, as he left.

“Things have been a little weird, lately…” Jensen said.

“You think?”

“I’ve been having these weird dreams…”

Jared’s green eyes lit up with some opaque emotion. “You too huh?”

*

So, it turned out that Jared had been having the same dream as Jensen, only his was from Sam’s perspective. They spent the rest of the time at the bar pondering what it all meant. Maybe, it simply was that they were spending too much time as Sam and Dean. Yes, surely, that had to be it. Surely…

Once they’d finished their drinks, both stood outside the pub awkwardly, a moment.

“You know… I had an okay night…” Jared said.

“Yeah, me too.”

“Alright, I’ll ah… I’ll grab this taxi, if that’s okay.”

Watching Jared alight the taxi, Jensen decided that it was a start. They weren’t going to be besties, but at least they could get along enough to be in the same room together. That night proved it.

*

“Okay,” Robert’s smile didn’t quite meet his eyes. “I know you two are wondering why I invited you into my office.”

Jensen caught Jared’s eye. The taller man glanced back and shrugged.

“I have two secrets to unveil. Firstly, Jim will be back, for a few more episodes following up to the end of the season.”

“Oh, that’s great,” Jensen and Jared said at the same time, then caught eyes again and laughed.

“The other thing is Misha is coming back.”

Jensen felt the odd sensation of the world falling away from him. He gripped the desk before himself.

“Misha?”

“Furthermore, he’ll be in next season too. We’re going to make him a regular.”

“Misha is Castiel, right?” Jared asked.

“Certainly, he begged us to take him back. Rang Eric up last night, just bawling on the phone.”

Jensen shot him a look of scepticism.

“What time was this?”

“Oh around… seven…” Robert suddenly couldn’t meet his eyes. Now Jensen knew he was lying. At that time, Misha was on the phone with him and was talking in the foyer of a Guns n Roses concert. Jensen could barely hear him but could tell he was excited, from his tone. “Anyway, Eric is just a sucker for someone crying on the phone and begging him to take them back. Couldn’t handle it.”

“So, the fact that our ratings have plummeted his season have nothing to do with it?” Jared asked.

Robert laughed. “That’s just the peaks and troughs of show business. I wouldn’t expect you boys to understand. Now go, be exceedingly handsome somewhere else.”

As they left the room, Jared turned to Jensen and said “You know, I’m starting to think a lot of people around here are kind of dicks.”

“Including us.”

Jared laughed. “Yeah, including us.”

*

Misha’s arrival back on set proved how liked he was, judging by the sheer amount of people who wandered up to him to talk to him. A few even embraced him (including Mark, although, from his vantage point, across the room, Jensen took note of the slight frown on Misha’s face.) Jared came up and gave him a friendly slap on his back and Jensen then came over, feeling butterflies careen around in his stomach. He wasn’t even sure why.

“Jensen, hey,” Misha said, pulling him into a warm hug and Jensen felt all of his concerns fade.

*

With Misha back, he realised that the set was starting to become a little more relaxed. At one point, Misha was in a scene with him, when Jared, off stage started to pull faces. Misha continued to focus on Jensen but then broke out into a smile.

“I’m sorry, it’s Jared. He’s distracting me…”

From then, Jared and Jensen started an all-out battle, to find out which one could be the first to make Misha break character as Castiel. Soon, they then started to do everything they could to make each other break character. Jensen, ever the stoic one, found that he was able to easily make Jared and Misha break character, but it was harder for the other two to do the same back to him.

Of course, all of this tomfoolery made the workday a lot longer, which he realised was not lost on the increasingly frustrated crew. Jensen was aware that they were kind of being an annoyance, but he couldn’t help but continue, he was having too much fun.

At the end of the day, he would take Misha back to his Vancouver house… where, due to their extreme tiredness, intimacy invariably didn’t occur. Apart from the occasional kisses or heavy making out, including in each other’s trailers on their lunchbreaks, their hands stroking each other’s erections to completion, they never seemed to find the time to do anything else. There were even times that they went into each other’s trailers and didn’t make out, instead grabbing beers and talking.

Jensen didn’t tend to think about this.... a lot…No, he didn’t occasionally lay in bed, Misha warm beside him, sometimes snuggled up to him, wondering when the hell him and Misha were going to really get to the intimate stuff.

One time, towards the end of the shoot, Misha was laughing with Jim, and Jensen was picking at the food on the catering table, when he felt Jared’s presence behind him.

“So, you and Misha…”

Jensen spun around to face him.

Jared laughed. “Of course I knew. Most of the crew do too. It’s not as though you’re exactly subtle. Don’t think Mark’s too happy about it, though. It’s pretty obvious he has a thing for Misha. As in a legitimate crush.”

_So, he’s been going around telling people that Mish and I-_

“Okay, before you look at me as though I’ve killed your mother, I haven’t said a word to the others. As far as I’m concerned, it’s not my business. In fact, Mark came up to me and asked me. I said I had no idea what he was talking about!”

“Oh, well, thank you.”

“So, you guys are all sexed up, or what?” Jared must have caught the look on Jensen’s face. “You’re not? I figured you guys would be banging each other senseless every chance you get.”

“It’s complicated.”

A sudden awareness came into Jared’s sea-green eyes.

“You’ve fallen for him bad, haven’t you? That’s so cute. Reminds me of when I first met Gen. Love on the set…” He shook his head, grinning widely. It was clear, from his expression that he was genuinely happy for the couple.

*

Deciding to forego the end of season party, Jensen instead invited Misha back to his house. He decided that tonight they were finally going to have sex. He was completely tired of waiting.

The last person that Jensen had been with was Jeffrey. He supposed some people would have thought it strange, him seducing the one playing his father on television. However, he had decided that he wanted Jeffrey from the first day on set. It didn’t take long to get him to his bed.

Jeffrey was different to Misha however. He was a lot more animalistic. With Misha, there was a lot more kisses and whispered endearments, and giggling. Jensen didn’t recall ever giggling during sex, before Misha.

After making out on the loungeroom chair, they didn’t make it to the bedroom.

When Misha first attempted to place the condom on, it broke, leading to him sheepishly admitting that it had been a while. Then came the discussion of testing, dull but necessary. Jensen liked to get regularly tested, even though he had never been positive for any STDs. Misha also admitted getting regular testing. He’d had a scare in his early twenties, he said and thus always made sure he was clean.

So, it was decided that, as they were both clear, condoms were not necessary. It took a lot more giggling and wrestling to get into the right position, in this case Jensen decided to go on his back his legs around Misha’s waist, so they could kiss, while he was penetrated. Misha, like Jeffrey, penetrated him very slowly, checking to verbally make sure that he was alright. After that, all similarities ended. Jeffrey was silent in his lovemaking, apart from the occasional grunt. Misha talked as he kissed Jensen’s face, telling him how beautiful he was, asking him if he wanted him to do anything more, asking him what he liked. At one point, he rolled them until they fell off the couch and onto the ground in a heap, where both then burst out laughing.

Jensen came first, gasping at the pleasure that tore through his body, before he heard a groan from Misha and felt him still, followed by the warmth of his release inside him.

“Well…” Misha collapsed against him, panting into his neck. “That was…”

“I know,” Jensen said.

“Maybe later, you can have me,” Misha said.

“Sounds like a plan.”

*

A few hours later, they reversed the scenario, with Jensen lustily slamming into his moaning partner. This time they didn’t fall off the couch, although with their movements, he was certainly surprised that the somewhat flimsy structure held intact. After coming so hard he wouldn’t have been surprised if he had exploded something in his brain, Jensen then carefully pulled out and snuggled against the very contented looking Misha, deciding that rest was in order.

“You have a bed… bed… more comfy there,” Misha sounded drowsy. He grabbed Jensen’s hand and pulled him up, directing him down the hall and into the bedroom. Once inside, Jensen fell down onto the mattress and then Misha climbed in beside him, pulling the blankets up, before slinging a leg and arm over Jensen’s waist.

*

 “So… ah…” Misha stood just after the airport’s ticket counter, his bag slung over his shoulder, biting his lip. “I was thinking that maybe I’ll take a detour to Dallas, sometime in these holidays. Visit a guy who can sometimes be rather a dick.”

“That sounds good. Maybe you should visit that guy,” Jensen said. “And maybe I’ll be going to LA to visit the angel.”

Misha reached out and engulfed Jensen in a brief hug.

“I look forward to it,” he whispered into Jensen’s ear. “I’ll text you, as soon as I land,” he waved, and then moved to the Air Canada book-in line.

Tbc…

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, this is all set in the 'alternate world' established in "The French Mistake". This is not meant to represent any real actor or family member.
> 
> Cheers to all who are reading.

* * *

Jensen stepped into his parents' loungeroom and swallowed, his stomach lurching. On the plasma screen that took up most of the south wall, Walter White was scolding Jessie. Ever since his parents had subscribed to Netflix, they had been crazy about discovering new television series. Of course, Supernatural tended not to be one of them. They occasionally watched the odd episode, to keep up with what their son was doing, but generally were uninterested. Jensen tried a few times, early on, to convince them to watch, stating that the series was a lot more complex than at first glance. However, it seemed that his parents had already made their minds up, which frustrated him no end.

“Hey, Jensen, come sit with us,” his mother said.

He moved further into the room, to stand before them, already knowing how the conversation was going to pan out. After weeks of skyping and texting, Misha was finally coming to Dallas to visit. His mother would, of course, be pleased to meet him. His dad would stoically pretend that he didn’t quite understand what the word ‘boyfriend’ meant.

“I… have something to tell you,” Jensen said.

His father picked up the remote and switched off the television.

“I… I met someone.”

“Oh lovely,” his mother said. “What’s her name?”

Jensen paused. “His name is Misha.”

He allowed the silence that followed, as his parents worked this information through in their minds.

“So, how did you meet him?” Mon finally asked.

“He’s an actor on the show. Plays the angel, Castiel.”

“Oh, I know the one. Handsome,” Mom had the gall to wink. Dad, on the other hand, sat very stiffly in his chair, eyes affixed to the now blank television screen, a rigidly vacant expression on his face.

“He’s incredibly nice and sweet,” Jensen said, frustrated with himself that he was coming across so openly flustered. “Honestly, the show just becomes so much friendlier when he’s around. Anyway, he’s coming to Dallas, for a few weeks. I was hoping that-“

“Oh sure, hon. He’s welcome to stay here,” Mom said. Dad passed her a disgruntled look.

“Oh no, I wasn’t-“ Jensen began.

“It’s nothing. Nothing,” she shot a glare at her husband.

“Oh, he was going to just book a hotel-“

“He’s more than welcome here, hon.”

“Well, I guess I’ll tell him to hold off on booking the hotel then.”

He lingered a moment, waiting for Dad to speak. When his father picked up the remote and switched the television back on, he caught the not-so-subtle hint that he was being dismissed.

*

Mom insisted on going with Jensen to the airport to pick Misha up. Standing before the arrivals gate, the light butterflies swarming his stomach then turned to full pounding against the inner lining, when he spotted the grinning familiar figure walking towards them.

“Jensen, hey,” Misha reached Jensen and embraced him, before turning to his mother. “You must be Mrs. Ackles.”

“Donna, please,” Mom said.

“Donna, thank you so much for allowing me to stay in your house.”

“No problem at all. Jensen’s told me so much about you.”

“Oh no, well, there is another plane in half-an-hour,” he pretended to check his watch. “If I go back to the ticket counter now, I may be able to get on the return flight back.”

Donna laughed, eyes darting towards Jensen. He instantly read her look; _He’s funny_.

“Well, I just have to pick up my luggage,” Misha said.

*

In the car, Mom, of course, asked Misha plenty of questions about himself, which he answered with the honesty that was characteristic of him. Jensen, who was driving, was quiet, hoping that the two would bond. His mom, he suspected, Misha would easily charm. His father, he knew would be a tougher one to influence.

Sure enough, when they arrived home, Dad stood up from his lounge chair and shook Misha’s hand with a formal “Nice to meet you”, before turning back to his newspaper.

The next two weeks went by very quickly. Despite the awkwardness whenever Dad was in the room, Jensen felt more than thrilled to have Misha around. The couple spent a lot of time outside, walking the vast city and exploring the local council gardens and parks, in particular. Jensen even felt confident enough to introduce Misha to some of his childhood friends, in the knowledge that they wouldn’t run to the press with the scoop that the Angel and Hunter of the low-rating CW show were banging.

Any attempt at truly wild lovemaking was thwarted by the fact that his parents’ bedroom was right next to his own. The first night, as he started thrusting into the pliant Misha, both trying to be as quiet as possible, the bed started creaking. As they moved faster the bed creaked louder. Misha’s laughter turned out to be almost as distracting as the squeaky springs.

“This isn’t working, is it?” Jensen said, ceasing movement.

“Maybe we should put all the sheets and blankets underneath us on the carpet and try again there?” Misha suggested, pointing to the floor.

 Seventeen minutes later, as the still panting Misha lay trembling and languid on his chest, Jensen said, “Yes, that was much better.”

Then there was the time Misha was on his knees before him on the same carpet they tended to sleep on now, most nights, his plush lips wrapped around Jensen’s erection, his lubed fingers skilfully scizzoring inside of him, preparing him. Mom knocked on the door and said she was going to the shops. Did they want anything? Misha didn’t stop with his fast head movements up and down, Jensen suspected deliberately, forcing him to answer in a rather strained voice.

“No!”

“Alright, no need to snap!” Mom said.

Misha then pulled away and smiled up at him, with a devilish grin, confirming that he had, indeed, done it deliberately.

“You know, I’m almost tempted to not let you have me now,” Jensen said.

Misha stood up. “Fine, if that’s what you-“

Jensen arranged himself on his hands and knees, trembling with anticipation.

"Just shut up and fuck me.”

“Well yes,” Soft lips kissed his hip. “If you insist so nicely…”

*

It seemed that Jensen was always watching him leave. Misha turned back at the airport metal detector leading to the gates and waved. Jensen waved back, before turning away, his stomach clenching.

How long until he saw him again? Would he have to wait the months until filming started again? Or, at least until he arrived back to his Vancouver house? Where they officially a couple, now?

His mother’s gentle arm on his shoulder felt a welcome distraction from his revolving thoughts.

*

Mom was silent, until they reached the car and both climbed inside.

“Alright, you listen to me, young man.”

Jensen whipped his head around to stare at her, feeling a little stunned. He hadn’t heard her use that tone since he was fifteen.

“That there is one gorgeous, sweet, lovely man who we just saw off. And furthermore, it’s clear that he’s crazy about you! Now, I know what you’re like. You don’t lose that one, you hear?”

Jensen blinked. “I don’t want to. Believe me. I’m glad you like him.”

“He’s lovely. Which is a surprise, for you.”

“Mom…”

_Here we go…_

“I’m just saying your partners in the past have not exactly been…”

“Alright, can we just stop now?”

Jensen started up the engine.

“It’s true though. He’s a darling. I think he’s great for you. And as for your dad, he’ll come around.”

As he reversed the car out of the airport parking bay, Jensen ignored the hurt cutting through his stomach, at his father’s complete inability to acknowledge his sexuality.

*

Two weeks later, Jensen took a flight to Los Angeles. Driving him from the airport, Misha told him that it was his turn to have the children for the next week, and warned him that they could be quite the handful, at times.

“Are you kidding? I love children!” Jensen.

“I’m just saying, there’s a difference between loving children as a concept and having them. Don’t get me wrong, I love my kids to death. But it doesn’t mean that, at times, I want to pull my hair out and run screaming into the back yard.”

Jensen could see, from Misha’s expression, that he was slightly anxious about him meeting the kids. He picked up his hand off the steering wheel and kissed it, before letting it go.

“I’m really looking forward to meeting them.”

*

“You made this?” Jensen said, looking around in awe at the intricately carved wood interior panelling of the lounge room.

“Well, it’s-“ Misha began, but was cut off by a female voice calling out to him from the open front door, followed by two young children running in, towards him.

“Daddy!” Misha was suddenly bowled over by a young boy of around six, and a young girl of around four. A tall woman, with straight brown hair and glasses then wandered in.

“Jensen? Vicky,” she smiled warmly and reached out her hand, which Jensen received and shook. “Nice to meet you.”

“West, Maison, this is Jensen.” Misha said, disentangling himself from his children.

West instantly hid behind his father, peeking out at Jensen with wide eyes. Jensen knelt down, so he was at eye-level with both children and said “Hello.”

“Are you going to stay with us?” Maison asked.

“For a little while.”

“Wanna see my room?”

“Sure, why not?”

As Jensen then allowed himself to be led off into Maison‘s bedroom, he overheard Vicky and Misha’s conversation.

“Alright, how on earth did you snag that insanely beautiful man?” She asked.

“I ask myself the same question every day.”

*

“This is my unicorn,” Maison said, holding up a small, multi-coloured toy.

“Okay, and what’s his name?” Jensen asked.

“Her name is Sparkles.”

“Sorry…her, of course.” He was glad Misha didn’t catch him being gender biased, or he would no doubt be subjected to a feminist lecture. Fresh in his mind was the conversation between Jared and Misha, on set, about the sexist implications of Dean’s constant use of gendered slurs, all because of one line in the current script in which he berated Sam to ‘go get your hair curled, you girl’.

“She lives in a forest,” Maison said, placing the unicorn beside the twenty-six other dolls and teddies that she had lovingly described to him, over the course of about half-an-hour.

A light rapping sounded on the door and Misha came in, bearing a bottle of coke.

 “I’m sorry, you don’t have to stay there-“

“No, it’s fine, we’re enjoying ourselves,” Jensen insisted.

“Well, here,” Misha placed the coke in his hands. “West and I are cooking dinner. Pasta alfredo sound good?”

*

After dinner, all three retired to the loungeroom, where Misha told gave everyone their list of potential movies for the night.

“Okay, we can go with the Simpsons Movie, the Lion King or Finding Nemo.”

“I want-“ Maison was seated on the other side of her father, to Jensen.

“We’re not watching Frozen,” Misha said. “I’ve already seen it fifty-six times already and I really don’t want to disembowel myself.”

“I want to watch Frozen!” She screamed. “I want to watch Frozen!”

“Remember that conversation we had the other week about you being a big girl? Are you acting like a big girl, now?”

Maison folded her arms and pouted.

“Alright, seeing as Jensen is the guest, he gets to decide.”

“Oh ah…”

“I think that Jensen wants to watch the Lion King,” West suddenly said.

“Oh, he does, does he?” Misha said. Weston suddenly came up, from where he was sitting on the beanbag on the ground, and snuggled against his father’s chest. “So, what do you want to watch?” Misha placed his arm around West’s shoulders. Seeing the attention that her brother was getting, Maison then crawled onto Misha’s lap also.

“Lion King is fine,” Jensen said, smiling a little.

“Manipulated by a child,” Misha mock teased him.

*

“Alright, you guys know the drill,” Misha said, taking turning off the tv with the remote. “Pyjamas, teeth then bed. Then I’ll read you a story.”

As the two children then walked out of the room, he turned back to Jensen.

“Sorry, this won’t take long… hopefully.” Misha then walked over to the liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of wine.

“They’re gorgeous, Mish,” Jensen said.

“Yeah, they’re great…” Misha’s entire face then lit up, as he took out a glass and poured a red, for Jensen, handing it to him. “I’ll be back soon.”

Jensen watched him go, sipping the wine.

*

About twenty minutes later, he returned. Misha collapsed next to Jensen on the lounge chair, wrapping an arm around his waist and taking the glass out of his hands.

“Thanks,” he said, taking a sip.

*

So began the routine, for the next week. Jensen had never truly appreciated how children tended to be the epicentre of one’s life. Everything truly revolved around them. Of course, he found them both to be intensely adorable. Every so often, the children would come out with one liners that would have both him and Misha break out in laughter. Then there were the times that they were being naughty and Jensen couldn’t help but hold in his amusement, at how intensely cute they were, even when they were doing wrong.

Of course, there was barely any time for intimacy. On the final night, Misha was on his hands and knees, moaning in time with Jensen’s tongue exploring a rather intimate area of his body, when there was a knock on their thankfully locked door.

“Daddy!”

Jensen instantly stopped in his ministrations, kissing his buttock and pulling away.

“West, daddy has a locked door,” Misha was still rather breathless. “You know that means he wants private time.”

“There’s a spider…”

Misha sighed, grabbed a heavy dressing gown off the end of the bed and pulled it on.

“I’ll be back soon,” he said, kissing Jensen’s neck, unlocking the door and departing the room.

Ten minutes later, he came back, locking the door again.

“Is he okay?” Jensen asked.

“Actually, it was a pretty big one on the wall. I took it outside. Anyway, where were we?” Misha said, rolling over onto his hands and knees again.

*

Misha waved at his children, seated in the backseat of Vicky’s car, which was rolling down the street and out of view, before closing the front door and turning to Jensen.

“Thank you, for that. I know it probably wasn’t easy…”

“They’re great. I think West really started to bond with me, by the end.”

“Yeah, he’s the shy one. I miss them, a lot. I just… it was important to me that you met them. They are _everything_ to me.”

“As they should be,” Jensen said.

“Anyway,” Misha grinned. “Finally, a week to ourselves. Should we christen every single room? By that I mean have hot and heavy sex?”

“I think that’s the best idea that I have ever heard.”

*

Jeremy grinned at his three stars, in what Jensen felt was an uncomfortable, almost predatory way, before slamming down a copy of a ‘Gossip Life’ magazine onto his messy desktop. On the cover was a picture of a screaming Kim Kardashian, with the headline “Kim Admits Kidnapped by Aliens, Taken to Unicorn Land.” Underneath was a smaller picture of Jennifer Aniston, with the title “JA Single Again. Get the Scoop on What is Wrong with Women Who Can’t Find Men”.

Misha, as Jensen suspected he would, pointed at the Jennifer Aniston caption and said,

“What the hell is this-?”

“Listen, I’m married,” Jared said. “I’m not going out with Jennifer Aniston, if that’s what you-“

“What? No!” Jeremy then flicked through the pages to an article in the middle, before shoving the open magazine down on the desktop. Jensen looked at the pictures and felt his innards slump. They were of him and Misha, hand-in-hand, on one of their walks, in Dallas. In one they were kissing, by a waterfall. That picture, in particular, looked so excruciatingly picturesque, as to be almost photoshopped.

“We can’t buy this publicity!” Jeremy said. “Two of our stars making out. Good one guys. Now,” he pointed at that waterfall picture. “Clearly, this was set up, with the paparazzi but still, who cares? You two are smarter than I gave you credit for. And here I was thinking you two were a bunch of airhead actors.”

Jensen felt Misha tense beside him.

“This came out a few weeks ago, just in time to change the storyline for this season. We were going to make Sam have a hallucinatory relationship with a vet, but this is much better. Here,” he flung three scripts at the stars. “Read this. I’m sure you won’t be disappointed. Misha, Jared, turn to page sixteen.”

Jensen turned to the page as well, and felt his heart skip a beat as he read.

CASTIEL

Yes. (long pause). I’m dirty.

DEAN

Yes, well purgatory will do that to you.

CASTIEL walks towards the bathroom.

SAM

Excuse me.

DEAN

Where the hell are you going?

SAM follows CASTIEL.

INT. BATHROOM-DAY

CASTIEL is leaning over the sink, looking at himself in the bathroom mirror. SAM walks in, and closes the door behind himself.

SAM

What happened to you, Cass?

CASTIEL

(turning to face him)

I do not know.

SAM

(visibly upset)

You don’t understand what I had to go through, the year that you and Dean were in Purgatory. I can’t do it anymore. Do you understand?

CASTIEL

Sam, I don’t know what to say to-

SAM steps forward and suddenly takes CASTIEL into his arms. They passionately kiss, then pull away, both looking shocked.

SAM

I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. What just happened there?

CASTIEL

We must not tell Dean.

SAM

That was a mistake. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.

 

Jensen flipped the script shut, his stomach a tight torsion, as he threw the papers down onto the desk and looked up to Jeremy, who was grinning so wide every one of his teeth were showing.

“Of course, it does happen again. And again.”

“What the hell is that?” Jensen asked, now feeling oddly shaky.

“Sam’s certainly taking an… interesting turn this season…” Jared said, evenly.

“Sam and Castiel? This is just… where is this coming from?” Jensen asked.

“Of course, Dean is going to be jealous, once he finds out, paving the way for next season’s-“

“Why did you decide to write this?” Jensen asked.

“We all know that sex sells,” Jeremy said, with a condescending tone. “An illicit gay affair. Just the spice we need, to up the ratings even more. And we can bring in the homophobic crowd who will be arguing about it so much on Twitter and Facebook that it will bring up the ratings even higher! Misha, you will send out a tweet hinting at the affair between Sam and Castiel, won’t you?”

“I ah…” Misha appeared to be just as startled by the script as Jensen and Jared.

“Attaboy,” Jeremy winked.

*

The day came for filming the kissing scene. Jensen was not happy and let everyone around him be aware of his ill-temper. It seemed deeply unfair. He’d gone from a week of constant lovemaking and Misha all to himself, to suddenly sharing him with Jared, all for the sake of ratings. It didn’t matter that Jared had come to him earlier that day and told him that he wasn’t happy about the script either, the point was that his boyfriend was about to make out with another man and he really didn’t like it.

Jensen stood as close to the action as possible, arms folded, as Jeremy called 'action'. Before the cameras, Misha as Castiel, stood in the bathroom set, leaning over the sink. Jared as Sam walked in.

“What happened to you, Cass?”

“I do not know.”

“You don’t understand what I had to go through, the year that you and Dean were in Purgatory. I can’t do it anymore. Do you understand?”

“Sam, I don’t know what to say to-“

Sam then stepped forward and took Castiel into his arms, kissing him deeply. Watching, Jensen fisted his hands.

“Cut!” Jeremy said. “I’m just not feeling the passion, guys. Let’s go again.”

*

“Sam, I don’t know how to say to-“

Sam’s arms went around Castiel’s waist, as he drew him to himself, their lips mashing.

“Cut!” Jeremy said “Let’s go again.”

*

“Sam, I don’t know how to say to-“

Sam stepped forward, tenderly tilting Castiel’s face up to his, before leaning forward and brushing their lips together. The kiss deepened.

“Cut! Better… yes, more of that, more romantic.”

*

“Sam, I do not know how to-“

Sam tilted Castiel’s face up to his, and for a moment both stared at each other, before Sam leant forward, their mouths touching together.

“Cut! Almost there, almost!”

Kiss.

“Cut!”

Kiss.

“Cut!”

Kiss.

“Cut!”

This time, Sam backed Castiel against the wall.

“Cut, almost!”

This time, Castiel backed Sam against the wall.

“Cut! Yes, getting somewhere.”

More kissing.

“Cut!”

Kissing.

“Cut!”

Kissing.                                                                                                                 

“Cut!”

Jensen opened his hands. He suddenly realised that he’d dug his fingernails into his flesh so hard that his palm was bleeding.

Three takes later and Jeremy was finally satisfied. The crew broke out into applause.

“Well… er…” Jared said to Misha. “No offense, but I’m glad that’s over.”

“Me too,” Misha said, wiping his lips on the back of his hand.

*

Thankful that the kissing scene was the last shot of the day, Jensen was quiet, until they arrived back in his trailer.

“I need a drink,” Misha said, instantly going for his liquor cabinet and taking out a bottle of whiskey. “You want one?”

Jensen said nothing, simply observed him, as he shrugged and then took out a tumbler and poured himself a quarter glass of the amber liquid.

“What a day, huh?” Misha said, taking a sip of whiskey and then leaning forward, to kiss Jensen, who pulled away.

“I don’t want to kiss any mouth that’s been near _his_ ,” he said.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Misha asked, placing the glass down on the counter beside himself.

“Oh, let me see, my boyfriend has been kissing my co-star all day!”

“Because it was in the script! We had to. Believe me, neither of us exactly enjoyed it.”

“Yeah right!” Jensen rolled his eyes. Feeling his heart hammering in his chest, he tucked his shaking hands under his shoulders.

“What are you saying, exactly?”

“I don’t even think he’s that handsome. Everyone goes on about him. Oh, he’s so good looking.”

“Jensen, you’re not even-“ Misha’s brows drew in together.

“I saw it, you enjoyed it. You got into it.”

Misha’s reply was to silently gape at him as though he’d suddenly grown two heads, which Jensen took as permission to keep going.

“I bet you did fuck him, didn’t you? I bet when I was in Texas those first few weeks-“

“I was with my children those first few weeks!” Misha said and Jensen instantly felt the cold dose of reality hit him.

_Oh… I’m such a friggen jerk._

 “And what were _you_ doing? I tried to call you a few times and you didn’t answer. How do I know _you_ weren’t off fucking someone else?” Misha said.

“That’s ridiculous!”

“Is it? You seem obsessed by Jared so much, maybe you should be with him! Just go off and tell him that you love him.”

“Wait, hang on, when did you call me and I didn’t answer?” Jensen said, trying to garner some control over the spiralling situation.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does Misha!”

“No it doesn’t! You obviously want an excuse to break up with me and are looking for the most ridiculous reason to do it!”

“When you called me, I was probably watching tv with my parents. Actually, that makes sense, there were a few times-“

“I can’t even… I’m going…” Misha said.

“Fine then, go to him! Go off to Jared!” Jensen blurted out. His hands were shaking rather intensely now, in conjunction with his galloping heartbeat.

Misha turned back to him, with clear hurt registering in his wide blue eyes, before storming out of the trailer, leaving Jensen standing and staring at the closed slammed door, with a mixture of triumph and anguish.

Tbc…

 


	5. Chapter 5

In the two days following the argument with Misha, Jensen estimated that he had maybe four hours sleep, at most. He participated in filming like a zombie, barely responding as others attempted to converse with him. Of course, there were more intimate scenes between Castiel and Sam. Jensen walked off set, in those times. When Misha wasn’t needed on set, he kept mainly to himself, alternating between his trailer and the green room. The scenes between Castiel and Dean were the most difficult. Jensen found that he could barely even concentrate, ironically leading to more takes, which lead to more forced time together and thus more awkwardness. Apart from the odd, stilted conversation over their characters, neither spoke to the other.

A part of himself told himself to stop being immature and make amends with Misha. The other, defensive side countered that Misha hadn’t attempted to make up with him, either. It was almost a relief to realise that ‘Misha ‘Everyone-thinks-he’s-so-damned-perfect’ Collins could be just as pigheaded and stubborn as himself.

Still, despite his agony, which tore at his heart, causing pain on a physical level, he refused to yield. Let Misha apologize to him. After all, Misha had been the one to accuse him of having an affair, as well.

After filming on the second day, Jared cornered him outside his trailer.

“We need to talk,” he said.

Wordlessly, Jensen opened the trailer door and the lanky man stepped inside, before he followed.

“Drink? I have tea? Coffee? Any manner of alcohol?” Jensen asked, squeezing past Jared’s tall frame, to move to his kitchenette.

“I’m fine.”

Jensen grabbed a beer from the fridge and opened it, leaning against the counter opposite, as he took a swig. Jared was now backed against the door, bearing folded arms and a stern expression.

“Well?” Jensen prompted.

“I didn’t want to become involved because it isn’t my business, but now it’s affecting filming. What’s up with you and Misha? You have a fight? You’ve both been moping around in the past few days like your moms have died.”

“Maybe you should ask _yourself_ that question.”

_Jared asked him first, remember? He asked him if he wanted a three-way with him and Gen._

“What are you talking about?” Jared asked.

“You two really seemed to get into that Sastiel kissing scene. Sweet, Sam and Castiel…” Jensen snickered, though he felt decidedly not amused.

“Oh my god… you think that me and Misha…?” Jared appeared incredulous. “Look, I know I muck around but I am _married_. I love _Gen_. And yes, Misha’s cute but he’s clearly so into _you_ … You are a fucking idiot, Jensen. You really are. We were acting! To be honest, by the end it hurt, both of our lips were chapped. I can guarantee you that neither of us liked it. It was awkward as hell.”

Jensen felt instant remorse engulf his system.

_What the hell is wrong with you?_

“I’m sorry…” Jensen found he couldn’t look into Jared’s eyes, instead focusing on his massive sneakers.

“You know what? Fuck you and your jealousy, Jensen. I really thought that I could… do you realise that this is also hurtful to me? You never gave me a chance… from the beginning. I was always not good enough for you. And now, you accuse me of cheating on my wife with your boyfriend? The level of disrespect…” Jared’s ensuing laughter held no humour. “And to think, here I was trying to sort things out. You’re on your own.”

Hearing the sound of the trailer door slamming, as Jared left, Jensen whispered, to the now empty room; “I’m sorry.”

*

Jensen didn’t sleep at all that night, his fired-up brain plagued with convoluted thoughts of Misha. He came onto set, bleary-eyed and exhausted, and almost ran straight into Kevin who was discussing the first shot, with Robert.

“You’re early!” Kevin said.

“Where’s Misha?”

“In the greenroom, I think. He came in even earlier than you.”

Jensen sped off to the room, to find Misha, as predicted, sitting in a chair in the far-left corner, with a script in hand.

Alright Jensen told himself. Don’t fuck this up.

“Misha…”

Misha looked up to him and then carefully placed the script down, on the chair to his left. He looked incredibly pale and bore dark circles under his eyes. Jensen considered that perhaps he wasn’t the only one who didn’t sleep the night before.

“I used to have these dreams you know,” Misha said. “They were so vivid, I almost thought they were real. I knew everyone one set. Everyone treated me like I was close with them. And you and Jared. You were the closest of friends. You were even the best man at Jared’s wedding. And then I’d wake up… and I’d go to this set, where everyone was so fake, so self-absorbed and I would realise that I was deluding myself.”

Jensen sat beside him, careful to place a bit of space between them. He observed the way Misha’s dark brown hair curled around the delicate ear that he had previously studied further with his lips and tongue. In fact, there wasn’t a single aspect of Misha’s body that he had not kissed, licked or fondled.

_Misha…_

Misha turned his head to face him. It was at times, as this, when Misha was looking at him, with such vulnerability in his large blue eyes, that Jensen felt overwhelmed by his concurrently raw yet delicate masculine beauty.

_Say it. You need to say it._

“I’m sorry. I was acting like a dick. A real dick. I know you and Jared wouldn’t… It was that stupid scene.”

“You don’t trust me,” Misha said quietly.

“I do. It’s just… it’s me…I once had a friend tell me that jealousy is possessiveness. She said to me do I want to own someone?” He shuddered.

“I know I’ve spoken in the past about polygamy, but with you…” Misha's eyes gleamed with strong emotion. “I don’t want to be with anyone else. I’m sorry too. I know you weren’t seeing anyone besides me. It’s just sometimes…”

Jensen took his slightly clammy hand, in his. “Sometimes what?”

“You’re so beautiful Jensen. I see the way everyone looks at you. You could have anyone you want. I tell myself to stop being stupid. I know you only want me. And you’re right about the possession thing. I don’t want to own you or control you. But I do want to be with you.”

Jensen kissed his hand and then let it go. “I want to be with you too. And I apologize again for being a jealous asshole.”

“Me too.”

Both leaned in at the same time and tangled tongues together.

“Much better than Jared’s,” Misha said, with the goofy grin that Jensen suddenly realised he’d been missing, the past few days. “Sorry, too soon?”

Jared… Jensen thought about their earlier conversation.

“I think, I really need to apologize to Jared, too.”

“I think that would be a wise idea. So, we’re fine then?”

Jensen nodded. “I hope so.”

“It’s early. Should we go into my trailer and have quickie?” Misha asked. “We can roleplay. Maybe I’ll be Dean and you can be Castiel. Or maybe I’ll pretend to be Sam and you can pretend to be Dean.”

Jensen screwed up his face. “No, no not incest. What is it again, Wincest?”

Misha laughed.

“So, just straight uncomplicated sex…at one point, involving me licking whipped cream off a very sensitive part of your body,” Misha said, holding out his hand.

“We have ourselves a deal then,” Jensen said, shaking his hand. Both then stood and rushed out of the green room, past the bewildered Kevin, who Jensen almost crashed directly into a second time, in their rush to get to Misha’s trailer.

*

After the final take of the final episode of season eight, Jensen finally worked up the courage to confront Jared about their difficulties directly.

As Jared talked quietly with Robert around the monitor as to how they were going to CGI in the falling angels, Jensen came up to Jared and deliberately interrupted the conversation.

“Can we talk?”

“We’re talking,” Jared lengthened his spine and folded his arms.

“What are you doing tonight? If you and Gen are free-“

“Gen and I have a function on.”

“Oh, well maybe another night.”

“What is it that you want, Jensen?” If Jared stood any more stiffly, those rippling muscles would surely burst open.

 “I was wondering if you wanted to go out to dinner, with me and Misha?”

Jared frowned. “Well, I suppose Gen could go by herself. To be honest, it’s a bunch of her old-school friends. Not really my scene.” He frowned, whipped out his mobile phone and then placed it to his ear. Jensen glanced at Robert, who gave him an ‘I don’t know either’ look, before swivelling back to his monitors.

*

He found Misha in the green room, talking, in a rather awkward fashion, with Mark. His arms were folded. As soon as Mark saw Jensen, however, he nodded and then departed, with distinct slumped shoulders. Jensen shot him a rather curious look and then turned back to Misha.

“So, there you are,” he said, leaning in for a kiss. “I spoke to Jared. We’re going out to dinner with him tonight.”

“You should go out. Just you two.”

“Hm?” Jensen couldn't resist nuzzling his lips against the side of Misha's chin.

“I think, with you and Jared, your relationship problems go beyond me. Really, it would be most beneficial to you both if you had some time to yourselves, to sort them out. Away from set.”

“You really think?” Jensen pulled away.

Misha nodded.

“Well, you are the smart one of this relationship.”

For a moment, Misha favoured him with a slightly cock-headed almost Castiel-type stare.

“Jensen, you think too little of yourself. You are very smart.”

“Alright, alright.”

“I wouldn’t date a beautiful idiot. It would drive me crazy if I did. Wouldn’t be able to talk to him about anything.”

“I don’t talk about intellectual issues the way you do,” Jensen pointed out.

“You’re just not as outwardly political as me. Which is probably a good thing.” Misha wrapped his arms around Jensen’s waist. “One of the things I love about you. Keeps me centred. I know I can go a bit crazy, at times, ranting about this and that-“

“Well you do seem to single-handedly want to save the world,” Jensen smiled warmly.

“I know you care, deeply, about all kinds of issues,” Misha said. “But, unlike me, you don’t need to broadcast it.”

“I love that you get so passionate about things,” Jensen said. “I find it very sweet.”

Misha responded by moving his face forward and gently engaging his lips, and tongue with Jensen’s.

*

“Food’s really gone down in this place. I don’t know why I keep going back here,” Jensen said, twirling the pasta on his fork.

“I know… I took Gen here for our first date…” Jared replied.

“I took Misha here!” Jensen said.

They caught eyes, across the table.

“Look, Jared, I don’t know how we even…” Jensen’s mind went to Misha’s purported dreams, in which him and Jared were good friends. “I’m sorry that I accused you of having an affair with Misha,” he said into the tablecloth.

There was a long pause. “I’m glad you and Misha seem to have sorted yourselves out. Really, I am. Because it’s not nice, Jensen. Misha is very sweet and you don’t need to-“

“Alright!” Jensen suddenly felt rather defensive.

_So, Jared, you don’t want to hear my side? Don’t want to hear how Misha accused me of cheating on him?_

Both were silent a moment, eating their pasta.

“So, Jeremy’s gone off the complete deep end, hasn’t he, this season?” Jared finally spoke.

“Season eight. Sastiel,” Jensen laughed. “It’ll either destroy us or bring us up even higher in ratings.”

“You do realise this will end with a big gangbang with all of the characters?” Jared said, laconically. “Well, except for any female characters, seeing as we keep killing them off.”

“Yes, Misha’s talked about that. Seems to think it’s a bit misogynistic.”

“I agree,” Jared said. “Look what they did to Ruby. They suddenly made her evil and then killed her off. She was far more complicated than that.”

“To be fair, we also tend to kill off the male characters.”

“The only people safe really are me and you,” Jared pointed out.

“Jared… I think we started out on the wrong foot, so to speak. I was… a prat. An egotistical self-obsessed narcissistic asshole.”

“Oh gee, don’t hold back.”

“I think I misjudged you and I’m sorry.”

Jared stared down at his forkful of pasta. “Yeah, well it does take two to tango, so to speak. I haven’t exactly been absolved from blame in the egotism side. I’m sorry too.”

Jensen felt an unexpected liberation engulf his body and he let go of the breath that he didn’t realise he’d been holding in.

“Can we just… wipe the sleight clean? Do you think that’s possible?” Jared asked.

“I would really like to try,” Jensen said.

“There is no try. There is only do,” Jared said, smiling.

“That has to be the worst Yoda impression I have ever heard!”

Jared started laughing.

*

Jensen stumbled out to the street, feeing rather lightheaded.

“Honestly, you don’t need to take a taxi. I’ll drive you. Where do you need to go?” Jared stepped out of the restaurant behind him.

“Misha’s staying at the Best Western on Granville Street.”

“Alright, I’ll give you a lift,” Jared said. “That’s really close to here. You’re in luck.”

“You sure?”

“Come on, I’m just parked around the corner.”

Jensen wasn’t even sure how he had managed to drink so much that night. He stumbled into the car and then slammed the door behind him, as Jared climbed in on the other side, clipped on his seatbelt and started the ignition.

“By the way, I wanted to say… I’m sorry I came onto Misha… you know, when I asked him for a threesome,” Jared said, as he slowly reversed out of diagonal parking bay.

“We weren’t together then. He could do what he wanted,” Jensen said.

“I know, but it was pretty rude. Gen read me the riot act when I got home. She said I was being kind of a dick to our guest star, who was just trying to be nice to everyone. She was right.”

“It’s kind of funny. That was kind of the impetus for me to…”

“To make a play for Misha?”

“Yeah,” Jensen said. “So, in a way, I have you to thank.”

Light music was playing from the car stereo. Jensen recognise the song and started singing along. Soon, Jared was singing along too. When the song was finished, both laughed. A second song started playing, that was even better than the first.

*

“Oh, what luck! Straight in front!” Jared said, pulling straight in front of the hotel.

“Thanks,” Jensen said and then unclipped his seatbelt, pausing, a moment. “After filming, I always go back to Dallas for a bit and Misha wants to go back to LA but we’re thinking of seriously staying here, the majority of the time. It’s a bit crazy, all of this running around.”

“Makes sense,” Jared said.

“Anyway, when we’re back in Vancouver maybe we could all catch up sometime?”

“Sure, that would be nice,” there was genuine warmth in Jared’s smile.

*

Misha was seated on the bed, watching a film which, judging by the cenobites on what appeared to be a spaceship, appeared to be Hellraiser, in space. Deciding not to let his boyfriend justify exactly why he would be subjecting himself to such atrocity, Jensen crawled into bed and snuggled up next to him.

“How did it go tonight?” Misha asked.

“Good! I really think we made some strides forward.”

“You’re drunk,” Misha said, with an edge to his voice.

Jensen replied by kissing his cheek.

“And you’re so _pretty_ …”

“So, what did you do tonight?”

“We talked, ate terrible pasta and then Jared was kind enough to drop me here. I apologized for being such a jerk in the past and so did he. It was…actually, it felt good. I’m thinking maybe we can really start to be friends.”

He could feel Misha relax.

“Mmm tired now…” He said, resting his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder, feeling Misha's arm move to wrap around his waist. “Sleep.”

*

The plan was for Misha to go back to Los Angeles and Jensen to return to Texas for a month. Jensen felt that it was important for Misha to have some time alone with his kids. After that, he would go to Los Angeles for a month to be with Misha and Misha would then return to Dallas with him for a few weeks. They’d then spend the majority of the remaining time back up in his house in Vancouver, before returning to film season nine.

Certainly, once he arrived back in Dallas, the texts, phone calls and photos didn’t stop coming through on his mobile. West had taken to stealing his dad’s phone and sending Jensen photos of all of his comic book figurines, in various combat positions, to which Jensen would inevitably send back tactical manoeuvres, leading to a fair amount of confusion, from Misha.

He mentioned to his parents that he was going to Los Angeles in a month’s time, before Misha would come back with him, leading to a flurry of questions from his mother about his boyfriend and an uninterested grunt from his dad.

One night  a few weeks later, they were seated at the dinner table, traditional roast beef and vegetables before them, when Mom suddenly said a non-sequitur, from their conversation, which had been about the weather.

“So, I was thinking, the first night Misha is over, I’ll make a really good three course meal. Really go all out.”

“Honestly, mom, there’s no need.”

“It’s no problem, honey.”

Sometimes, Jensen had to remind himself that he was a thirty-five-year-old man and not sixteen.

His dad cleared his throat.

Jensen felt the usual irritating build within him and… maybe he was tired, maybe it was merely the last tether that held his usual calm composure intact, but he felt something snap within himself.

“You know dad...okay, what is your issue? You’ve had a problem with Misha from the beginning.”

“Oh, come now, Jensen-“ Mom began only to be cut off by him.

“It’s because he’s a man, isn’t it? Dad, I’m bisexual, okay? That means I’m attracted to both male and female. And right now, I’m with the best man on the entire planet. Damn, they’re thinking of making gay marriage legal! Get with the times!”

“Look, I don’t care what other people do. It’s their business. But my own son…” Dad said, face showing an almost pathetically helpless expression.

“What about your own son? I’ve been out for years, dad! I’m not having this argument now. I’ve had enough. This is your problem, not mine.”

Jensen shoved the chair out and angrily departed the table, stalking to his bedroom and slamming the door behind himself so hard that the frame shook. Still shaking with rage, he grabbed his phone off the charger and called Misha’s number. He answered within three rings.

“Hey, Jensen. We’re just about to put on Iron Man…” Jensen could hear a child’s voice in the background. “Oh hang on West wants to speak to you.”

“Jensen, did you get my photo of Iron Man versus Batman?”

Jensen swallowed, blinking back tears. “Sure did.”

“Alright, alright, let daddy speak,” Misha laughed. “They really wanted to watch ‘Batman versus Superman’ but I heard that is really dark and just… no, I told you honey, it will give you nightmares.”

Jensen couldn’t help the choked sob that escaped his lips

“Hey, is everything alright?” Misha said, soothingly.

Another choked sob escaped his mouth.

“Alright, daddy has to go into the other room. West, you take care of your sister for a moment.”

Jensen heard footsteps, followed by the snick of a door closing.

“I’m sorry, you’re busy. I shouldn’t have-“ Jensen began.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just… I wish I was with you right now.”

“I miss you too, beautiful.” The word sounded so natural, coming off Misha’s tongue. “What happened? Did you have a fight with someone?”

“It’s dad. He…he’s never accepted my bisexuality. I think he kept thinking it was a phase, that I’d meet a woman and settle down. Even if I did, it still wouldn’t change…”

“I understand.”

“How did you parents react?”

“Oh, they were very understanding. I guess it’s that kind of family.”

“Dad’s an actor but he’s also very religious. So am I. I can see how the two can intermingle, why can’t he? Jesus wouldn’t have been against gay or bisexual people. A loving god wouldn’t be against…”

“I know,” Misha said, soothingly.

“I’m sorry,” Jensen said, feeling tears now run down his face.

“Oh Jensen, I wish you were here!”

“So do I.”

“I’m really sorry. It’s terrible to have a parent that doesn’t understand you.”

“I’d better go. You should get back to West and Maison.”

“No, Jensen. It’s fine-“

“I’ll be alright,” Jensen insisted. “I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

“It’s no trouble! Bother me any time. I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And I love you, okay? So much.”

Jensen closed his eyes, more tears slipping down his cheeks. It was the first time that the three words had been used between them.

“I love you too.”

Jensen then hung up the phone.

*

The next morning, his dad was sitting awkwardly at the kitchen counter. Jensen was planning to simply make coffee and ignore him, however he started talking. It was clear that Mom had put him up to it, most probably with a great scolding, the night before.

“Jensen, I apologize for what happened last night,” he said so stiffly it was as though he was being forced to say the words at gun point.

Jensen flicked on the kettle and searched around the cupboards for a clean mug.

“You have to realise this is difficult for me… I wasn’t brought up in the liberal house that your mother was.”

Jensen placed the mug down and unscrewed the coffee lid, grabbing a spoon from the bench and adding coffee to the mug, before opening the fridge and taking out the milk.

“You’re my son and I love you. I will go to church and pray for the strength I need.”

With a slightly shaking hand, Jensen poured the milk into the cup and then placed it back in the fridge.

“Please, son…”

“You do that,” Jensen said now pouring the hot water from the kettle into the mug.

“Jensen…”

Jensen left the room with his cup of coffee before his father could say any more.

*

In response to Jensen's distress, Misha organised to move forward his trip to Dallas. When Misha arrived less than a week later, Jensen had not spoken to his father in all of that time. His mother had repeatedly asked him to try and Jensen had told her to let it go. Thankfully, Misha was smart enough not to question the somewhat icy atmosphere, on the drive from the airport.

Back at the house, Dad, who had been sitting on his favourite lounge chair, stood up and walked over to Misha.

“Misha! How was the flight?”

“Long… the guy behind me kept kicking my seat.”

As they continued to make small talk, Jensen said nothing. He could tell his father was simply trying to appease him.

“Come on, Misha, you should bring your case into my room,” Jensen said, not even bothering to look in his father’s direction.

As the weeks past, his dad kept making small talk with Misha. Jensen staunchly ignored him. He realised that this placed both Misha and Mom in an awkward position- which he felt a little guilty for- but not enough to break through his hurt and anger.

Finally, on the last night, Misha told Jensen that he needed to talk to his father. Both were lying on the floor of his bedroom, after a bout of rather intense lovemaking, in which they’d switched positions several times, both orgasming within the other. This was Jensen’s favourite form of lovemaking.

“You need to forgive your father, Jensen. He’s really trying.”

“Why can’t he just come out and say that he’s sorry? It’s so simple. He’s just so damned stubborn!”

“I think he’s been trying. Some men will never actually say sorry. They just… act in ways to show you they’re sorry.”

Jensen was silent a long moment, gently trailing his finger down the flank of Misha’s warm body.

“I’m sorry,” Misha said. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do. I just… it pains me to see you so unhappy.”

*

The next morning, Dad offered to take them to the airport. Jensen accepted, and then started to talk to his father about the recent Raiders game that he’d been watching the night before. When they said goodbye, his father spoke to Misha.

“See you next time.”

He then turned to Jensen and clasped a hand on his upper arm, causing Jensen to jump a little, startled at the sudden tactile movement.

“I’m going to miss you, son.”

*

“You’re wrong, guys,” Jared to Jensen and Misha walking beside him. “It’ll be Destiel this season.”

Jensen shook his head. “No. I think they’ll continue with the Sastiel.”

“I think Castiel will not be with either of the brothers, intimately, that is,” Misha suggested. “And spends the season trying to work himself out. This makes sense. He’s human this season.”

*

“So, guys, season nine,” Jeremy smiled widely at the three men standing in the office before him. “All ready to go?”

“Oh, it’s going to be good this season,” beside him, Kevin gave a little thumbs up.

“So, this series just keeps going up and up in ratings, thanks to you two,” he pointed to both Misha and Jensen. “We’ve got the fangirls who love the two actors hot and heavy in a gay relationship, we have the ones that want to picket the studio. Hell, we even have the religious folks sending us hate mail. I understand, Misha, that you’ve been getting a fair amount of homophobic hate tweeted your way.”

“Well, I just block-“

“No, keep it going! They want to say you’re god’s mistake. Let them! It’s more publicity for the show!”

“Now listen here!” Jensen thumped his fist down on the table and leant across. “If some homophobic fuckface wants to troll Misha-“

“We had a letter the other day, what was it that it said again, Kevin? Called our production what?” Jeremy turned to the one beside him.

“Spawns of Satan.”

“Yes! Wonderful! So, of course, I then spread a rumour that we were actually practising devil worship on set. Because if you’re going to be accused of being ‘Spawns of Satan’, you might as well-“

“Hold on!” Jared said. “You spread a rumour we’ve been worshipping the devil on set?”

“Oh yeah, there may be an FBI enquiry,” Jeremy said, casually. “So, that brings me to the human Castiel de-virgining by Dean, this season.”

“Yes, of course,” Jensen said, glancing at Misha and Jared and smirking.

“I owe you five dollars,” Misha told Jared.

“Human and scared, Castiel arrives at the bunker, to find Dean alone and drinking. Castiel has never drunk before. One thing leads to another and they fall into bed together. Cut to black,” Jeremy said.

“Marvellous, isn’t it?” Kevin said.

“The rest of the season is Dean and Castiel dealing with the repercussions of their one night stand. It will work, guys. Trust me.”

*

The first month of filming went fine. Jensen was particularly pleased the week that Jim returned. Jim always brought such lightness and humour to set. Later that night, Jensen invited him out to dinner. Misha, Jared and Gen also came. It turned out to be a good night, with a lot of laughter and reminiscing.

Then came the day for filming the ‘love scene’. Jensen woke up feeling rather queasy and had forgone sex that morning- surely a sign that something was wrong- but Misha didn’t say a word. He wasn’t even sure why he was feeling so nervous. After all, it wasn’t as though they were having sex on screen. He just had to kiss Misha and tumble down onto bed. They would then film the next day, in which, in the script, an awkward Dean accepts breakfast from Castiel, before Sam arrives, as Gadreel, and tells him to get rid of Castiel.

“Alright, action,” Robert said.

Laughing and good-naturedly teasing Castiel was easy enough. After all, that interaction with the angel was essential to Dean’s character. Castiel favoured him with his usual stare. They brushed lips. Jensen pulled back, now feeling out of character and just plain wired. He grabbed Castiel by his lapels and mashed their mouths together, sliding his tongue inside, as Misha responded, with equal ardour, before they fell back onto the bed.

“Cut!” the bell rang.

Jensen and Misha both sat up.

“Great!” Robert said. “Very intense. Love Dean’s right balance of nerves, confusion and sheer lust.”

Jensen suddenly noticed all of the women, from the makeup artists to the producers, most of whom were never on set during filming, hovering around Robert. Most of them were nodding.

“Let’s do it again.”

The second time, Jensen realised they were properly kissing, not ‘actorly’ kissing without tongues.

After Robert yelled ‘Cut’, the makeup artist suggested that they needed to do another take. The other women seemed to agree.

The third take, Jensen wondered whether he was going to get an erection. This was usually the case, when he was kissing Misha.

The fourth take, they missed the bed completely and landed on the floor, in front, much to the amusement of those around them.

The fifth take, he decided that Dean probably wouldn’t touch Castiel’s hair so stopped running his hands through the short dark strands as they kissed.

The sixth take, Jensen changed his mind and decided that Dean would run his hands through Castiel’s hair.

After the seventh take, Jensen wondered if he was going to feel awkward, having sex with Misha that night.

Three takes later, Robert finally seemed happy.

*

Lying, panting in each other’s arms later that night, Jensen realised that the kissing scene earlier that day really didn’t affect their ability to have great sex together.

Tbc…

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning in this chapter for violence and murder.  
> Also, Mark Sheppard is not very nice at all in this fic. This is not meant at all to be representative of the real man, who comes across as very sweet, funny and lovely IRL.

Throughout the filming of season nine, Jensen discovered a delightful new aspect to his life. After almost ten years of sincerely inhabiting Dean Winchester, he was now actively enjoying himself in the role and, furthermore, looked forward to coming to work every day. The set was the most relaxed that it had ever been and, hence, he found that he was able to joke around, a lot more, with both Misha and Jared, and even some of the other actors and crew members. Now that Jared wasn’t his designated arch-nemesis, he turned out to be rather fun, laughing and horsing around quite incessantly and doing everything he could, to make others laugh. Most of the time he was successful.

There was one man, however, who didn’t seem to share their enthusiasm. Mark often moped around set, looking surly and not involving himself in the pranks of the others, even going so far as to often chastise them for what he saw as their unprofessionalism. Jensen heard rumours that he was in the middle of a divorce, which he considered may explain his bitterness. One night, lying in bed with Misha clamped around his body in a way that was far more gratifying than the blanket, he mentioned the rumour and asked if Misha perhaps could give Mark some advice, being a divorced man, himself.

“I guess I could…” Misha said.

“Alright, what’s wrong?” Jensen said, catching his hesitant tone. “You just don’t seem to like him very much.”

“It’s just… I don’t know…” Misha clenched his hand tighter against Jensen’s hip. “He used to stare at me, a lot. And he’d make these little comments. Nothing too offensive. Castiel looks good in his trench coat, that kind of thing.”

Jensen’s thoughts went to Jared once telling him that Mark had a ‘crush’ on Misha. It had seemed inauspicious, at the time. After all, he was always convinced that Mark was completely straight. But then, so was Jeffrey.

_Yes, but that’s different. He was being seduced by me. Even the most heterosexual man wouldn’t stand a chance once I decided that I wanted him._

“Maybe he’s just acting the way he thinks Crowley would act,” Jensen said.

“I guess… he did once tell me that he thought Crowley would ‘bugger’ Castiel.”

Jensen considered this concept. “Oh definitely.”

“Well, Castiel would put up a hell of a fight. He wouldn’t ever want Crowley,” Misha shuddered.

Jensen ran a hand up the back of his thigh, the hairs tickling the pads of his fingers. “It just an idea of mine. You don’t have to talk to Mark.”

Misha responded to Jensen’s touch by kissing along the planes of his lover’s right pectoral, as his hand slipped down to stroke his suddenly interested member.

“Speaking of ‘buggering’. How about I talk about the ways in which I want to bugger you senseless, right now?”

“Well,” Jensen groaned, as Misha’s hand started to stroke, with the exact firmness that he liked. “I think the better idea would be to show me, rather than just tell me.”

*

In the few weeks leading to the end of shooting, Misha seemed a little quieter, than usual. It was very subtle. He still talked to cast and crew alike and continued to be involved in the sillier of Jared's pranks. Hence, no one else noticed. Jensen however, now felt attuned to the subtlest of changes to Misha's temperament, and it was clear that he simply didn’t talk as much as he did previously, even when it came to topics that were of interest to him. This became very obvious, on the day that Jared started talking about the flaws in the current government, to all who would listen. Jensen, standing nearby, kept darting his eyes over to Misha, sitting and reading a script, within earshot. He was certain that Misha would join in, at some point, with the conversation. However, Misha simply continued to read the script, seemingly not bothered.

Jensen also noticed that he seemed to be on the phone to Vicky a lot more than he was previously. It came to a point where he started to worry that there was some trouble with the children. However, upon questioning him, Misha replied that everything was fine.

On the third night before the end of the shoot, they were lying in bed, legs entangled, faces barely inches from each other’s. In this respective, it wasn’t too different from any other night.

“Jensen…” Misha’s voice was coated in honey.

They entangled tongues, a while, before pulling away naturally, Misha’s hands still stroking Jensen’s hair.

“You know, when we were filming season four, Vicky debated moving up with me to Vancouver. We were still married, well it was towards the end but still… after we divorced she’s talked about it, off and on. Lately, I’ve been thinking… well I’ve discussed it with her. She does like it up here, and it would mean I’m closer to the kids…”

“You thinking she’s going to move here permanently?”

“That’s the plan, yes. It would be great. Means I could see the kids whenever I wanted, without making a plane trip.”

“That’s fantastic Misha,” Jensen said truly meaning it.

“I would have to find a permanent house…Stop staying in hotels.”

“Or you could just move in here with me,” Jensen said, shrugging.

“Really?”

“Misha, we practically live together anyway.”

“I would love that. Yes, I think that would be… yes,” Misha’s entire face lit up, in a smile that, if it were on Castiel’s face, Jensen was sure every demon in the surrounding area would be instantly smited.

_Living with Misha... officially..._

Jensen suddenly felt like whacking himself in the head, as he realised the reason for Misha’s quietness in the past few weeks. He had clearly been wanting to ask to move in with Jensen and was trying to… what, build up the courage? What did he think, that Jensen would not want him to move in, despite the fact that, as he had already explained, they were practically living together, already?

_Misha, stop being so silly._

Jensen always found it utterly remarkable that such a man, as Misha, who always seemed so confident with everyone around him, would display such moments of timidity, when it came to his intimate partner.

“Alright, it’s decided then!”

_Of course, I was going to say yes._

Jensen kissed Misha soundly on the mouth, their hands exploring each other’s bodies, before he rolled his lover onto his back and started keenly kissing down his body.

*

Most of the break between filming seasons nine and ten were spent organising the moving of Misha’s Los Angeles belongings to Jensen’s Vancouver house, and the sale of Misha's house. Jensen had certainly meant it, when he’d said that Misha was pretty much living with him, anyway. But having him move in, somehow made it official. They celebrated with dinner and champagne with Jared, Gen and Jim, before returning to the house and making love on the bathroom floor.

With both now living together, the studio was putting pressure on them to officially ‘come out’. At one point, Eric even rang them up to beg them to make an official statement. Both Misha and Jensen declined. It was what it was. There was no need to make a statement.

After three months, Vicky moved up with the kids and Misha seemed happier than ever, which meant that Jensen felt happier than ever. Misha officially saw his children every second week, which gave Jensen plenty of opportunity to bond. A few times, Misha even took West and Maison to Jared’s house. The heavily pregnant Gen, in particular, seemed to covet these visits, spoiling the children with gifts and (away from their father’s gaze) secret chocolates and lollies.

And so, life went on very well, for a while.

*

_“I remember,” the tall, dark-haired man gazed intently at the press-suited man seated opposite the empty table. “I remember who I am, why I am here.”_

_“And who are you?”_

_“I am Virgil. I am an angel.”_

_“I see, well Virgil-“_

_“Keeper of the weapons of heaven. Cast into here, this scourge of no-magic, from a parallel universe. Dean and Sam were able to find their way back to their own but me, I was stuck here, wandering, confused. But now, I recall all.” He stood up, pushing back his chair. “I know now what I must do.”_

_The white light that then filled the room was of such a brilliance, that the doctor screamed, his eyes burned from their sockets, before he dropped to the floor and didn’t move. The light then grew brighter and brighter, until it was of such an intensity that Jensen, watching the interaction between what appeared to be doctor and patient, realised that if he didn’t look away, even in the dream state, the light would burn his soul too, to an ember._

Jensen gasped awake, his heart hammering in his chest. Beside him, the sleeping Misha held a content expression, his chest gently rising and falling. Being very gentle, so as not to disturb him, Jensen pulled the blankets back and moved out of bed, trotting over to his laptop, seated on the desk in the left corner of the room. Sitting down and powering up his machine, he suddenly recalled a detail in the dream that he hadn’t focused on, initially. The suited man was wearing a pin on his lapel, that read ‘Quebec Sanatorium’. Jensen pressed the name into a google search.

The first google item that came up was a news report, about an ‘explosion’ at the, as it turned out, very real institute, that killed six people.

Jensen switched off the laptop with a trembling hand, before folding his hands in his lap and staring out into the darkness, repeating to himself over and over that the dream meant nothing. Coincidence.

Only his mind didn’t appear to believe him.

*

He awoke the next morning to an empty bed.  Wandering out into the kitchen, he spotted Misha at the stove, flipping pancakes, and looking acutely adorable, with his bed-hair and yellow pyjamas.

“You were looking so peaceful. I didn’t want to disturb you…” Turning to face Jensen, Misha’s brows momentarily creased. “Everything alright?”

Jensen considered telling him about the dream but decided against it.

“Everything is fine,” he said, kissing the troubled look from Misha’s countenance.

*

On the very first day of shooting season ten, a rather stiff-looking Mark came up to Jensen and Jared, where they were conversing, in the green room.

“I just wanted to… apologize for my behaviour the last time we were shooting. I was going through a rough time,” Mark said, a faint red blush discolouring his cheeks.

“No problem. Hey, we all go through bad times,” Jensen shrugged.

“Still no excuse for treating people terribly.”

Jensen felt a little of his scepticism towards him lessen, in the face of his honesty.

“All good, Mark.”

Mark nodded. “Thank you.”

He then abruptly turned and left the room. Jensen watched his departing figure a moment, then shrugged and turned his attention back to the new script for the second episode of season ten, that he and Jared had been discussing.

*

Over the next few days, he saw Mark go up to other people to apologize. Misha pointed out that he hadn’t apologized to him, to which Jensen added;

“Yet.”

It seemed, thankfully, that Mark was back to his old self again, laughing and joking around with the cast and crew, and favouring them with his often-witty remarks. In some of the scenes between him and the brothers, he even participated in their practical jokes, at one point joining with Jensen in throwing a pie on Jared’s face.

Misha still seemed untrustworthy towards him, which was honestly starting to get on Jensen’s nerves, a little. But, he held his tongue, not wanting to cause any argument.

The weeks progressed and Mark continued to ingratiate himself with cast and crew. It was then that Jensen started to notice the pattern. Mark was willing to talk to everyone, it seemed, except Misha, who he only seemed to talk to if it was absolutely necessary. Jensen was starting to wonder why, when one morning, Jared came in, glared at Mark and then suddenly refused to have anything to do with him, except for conferring over scripts. Jensen caught the rest of the crew glancing at each other, throughout the day, as well as hushed whispers, but no one actually dared to ask Jared what had happened, to cause him to suddenly dislike the very popular Mark.

The next day wasn’t a Crowley day. Jensen almost actively felt the collective hush of relief, from the rest of the cast and crew. At lunch, Jared came up to him and Misha and asked if he could talk to them, in the green room. Intrigued, Jensen followed.

“Misha, I wanted to talk to you about Mark.”

“What about him?” Misha asked, folding his arms.

Jared looked around, as though to verify that they were the only ones in the room.

“Well, he came to my house a few nights back. Had a few drinks. I thought he was an okay guy,” he bit his lip and furrowed his brows, seeming hesitant to continue. “Anyway, we were talking about filming and then he started talking about you. Basically, saying he couldn’t understand why you were so popular. I asked him what his problem was. He then just went into this tirade, saying that you were weird and doing everything you could to advance your career, that you were pretty much a narcissist. I told him to shut the hell up. You were my friend and I wasn’t going to have him say all those terrible things about you. Especially as you weren’t there to defend yourself! I kicked him out of the house. I’m sorry, Misha. I’m so sorry. The guy’s an asshole.”

“An asshole who’s going to get his ass kicked, next time I see him,” Jensen said, curling his fingers up into fists.

“Forget it, Jensen. He’s not worth it,” Misha said.

“But-“

“Let me deal with it.”

“What did he mean ‘do anything to advance his career’?” Jensen turned back to Jared.

“You don’t want to hear the details. Suffice to say it involved the casting couch.”

 “Well, who didn’t blow Eric, for a chance to be on this show?” Misha said, dryly. “Should have brought out the pink vibrator, though. Then maybe he would have put me in every episode.”

“Well, I’m not talking to him, Misha,” Jared said. “Not anymore.”

“Look, I don’t want there to be any awkwardness on set. Can you just promise me that?”

“I will kick his ass, Misha,” Jensen said.

“Please, Jensen. Just let it go.”

“Sure,” Jensen said. He had absolutely no intention of ‘letting it go’. Glancing at the fury in Jared’s usually calm green eyes, it was obvious that he had no intention of ‘letting it go’, either.

*

_The elderly woman gently clasped the hand of the younger woman before her, before reaching for a tissue box, pulling a tissue out and handing it to her. The younger woman dabbed at her eyes._

_“Thank you so much.”_

_“God be with you,” the elderly woman said. Her warm smile continued, until the woman stepped through the beaded curtain leading outside the room, before wiping from her face, to reveal a vulpine, greedy expression. The woman closed her eyes, breathed deeply a few long seconds and then opened her eyes, readjusting the purple shawl about her neck._

_The tall, dark-haired man stepped into the room._

_“Oh, my dear, I am not ready for-“_

_“Denise O’Hanigan? I have been told that you have true powers. You are in contact with the angels.”_

_“Please sit down,” Denise said, pointing at the chair that the young woman had just vacated. The dark-haired man remained standing._

_“You must get me in contact with Raphael. I tried, with the doctor… I was unable.”_

_For a moment, Denise’s brows drew together._

_“You look lost, my friend. Come sit down, and I will discuss your worries. The cost is one hundred dollars.”_

_“No there will be no cost. You will put me in contact with Raphael now!”_

_“My dear, the angels are always around us. But I need to sustain a living, as well.”_

_The dark-haired man glared at her, and then took a couple of bills out of his pockets and fisted them into her hands. Denise nodded, closed her eyes and sat, silently a moment. Then she started to move; to twitch and moan, to shake. She opened her eyes._

_“My child,” she intoned, in a deep voice._

_The dark-haired man’s head bent, obscuring his face, and he visibly exhaled._

_“I am Raphael.”_

_A keening sound erupted from the man’s throat._

_The woman didn’t even see the knife coming. It slashed deep into her throat, arcing blood up in a spray outwards, over the tarot cards on the table before her. As she gurgled the man placed a goblet under the still gushing wound, collecting the blood._

_“Lies! You are a fraud,” the man spat and then moved away from the slumped fraud and concentrated on the goblet._

_“Raphael? Raphael? Oh, please do not abandon me in this god forsaken place!”_

Jensen panted, taking a moment to reorientate himself to his bedroom. He then reached out, reassuring himself with the touch of Misha’s warm body beside himself, before silently creeping out of bed and opening up his laptop, firing up google chrome and doing a search for the name “Denise O’Hanigan”. Instantly, an article came up, about the death of the renounced ‘psychic’, from Ottawa. She had been found in her apartment, her throat silt. The article then went on to say that the police had no leads.

_Well… fuck…_

Jensen crept back into bed, cuddling up to the sleeping Misha, his mind bombarded with thoughts. There was no doubt to the identity of the man, being, in the dream. He was the angel he had been dreaming about for months, no, years.

Virgil.

But what did this mean? That he was real? 

Jensen felt a single tear slip down his cheek, as he clasped Misha tighter to himself.

*

All throughout the next morning, Jensen barely heard Misha’s usual sparkly chatter, was far too distracted by his dream. Did this mean that they were in trouble? Could they be in danger? Was he going to re-enact his previous dream, in which Misha, Robert and Eric were killed, and more crew sent to the hospital, with gunshot wounds?

No, no he told himself not to consider any of this. Getting into his character’s mindset, may be justified, in this instance. They were going to be fine. That was what Dean would say.

_Keep it together, Jensen. Just keep it together._

*

That morning, on set, he had completely forgotten that they were filming a Crowley episode until he spotted Mark by the monitors, talking to Kevin.

“Jensen, don’t-“ Misha began.

Too late, Jensen stormed right up to the Englishman, demanding that he ‘follow him’ to the greenroom. He caught Mark rolling his eyes at Kevin, who laughed, before following after him.

“What is it?” Mark said, once Jensen established that they were alone.

“So, anything to say?”

“Jensen…” He heard Misha’s soft voice behind him.

“About what?” Mark was good at feigning innocence.

“About Misha! Jared told us how you were bitching about him the other night.”

Mark turned his now slightly exasperated face, towards Misha. “You haven’t told him, have you?”

“Told me what?” Jensen asked.

“About our little ‘date’.”

“We have never gone on a date,” Misha said, looking honestly perplexed.

“Oh no, not to Misha. No, you see, Jensen, a few years back, I invited Misha out to have a few drinks. He graciously accepted. Oh, don’t worry, all he did was talk about you. How he had gone out with you the night before, and you spoilt it all with what he saw as your intense narcissism. Poor little precious Misha, bitching like a little girl-“

“Hey, that’s sexist! You can’t-“ Misha began but was cut off by Mark.

“Yes, because you’re going to condescendingly tell all of us what we can and can’t say, aren’t you Misha?” Mark snarled. “You’re going to tell us all that we are terrible human beings because we’re not perfect little lefties like yourself.”

Jensen had to partially agree with Mark on that one, even if he was being a major dick. Misha’s outspoken need to correct even himself on every aspect that he thought wasn’t 100% ‘politically correct’ tended to annoy him. But he refused to give Mark an opening to denounce Misha even more.

“So, you’re angry with Misha about something that happened years ago? Hold a grudge, much?” Jensen asked.

“No, not angry, no. More… I now know who he is. Comes across all sweetness and light, like the cute little angel he plays. But it’s a con. Sorry, Jensen but you’re being conned.”

“Look, Mark, I didn’t think it was a date! Besides, you were married at the time,” Misha said.

“Oh, you knew. You knew. You wanted to satisfy your ego by having someone you saw as a ‘second rate’ star come onto you. After all, Jensen had so completely failed with you, the night before. And yes, if you’d bothered to ask, you would have also been told that my wife and I also had an open relationship. Now, I’ve never been attracted to men in all of my years on this earth, but then I found myself being attracted to you and you fucking knew it and played on it!”

Jensen recalled Misha saying to him that Mark made him ‘uncomfortable’.

“Look, he wasn’t interested in you, clearly.”

“Then he shouldn’t have bloody gone on the date with me, should he have? Gives a guy mixed signals. At the end of the night, I leant in for a kiss, Misha looked at me like I was absolute scum and then just flounced out of there, leading me standing in the rain feeling like a punce.”

“It wasn’t a date, not to me!” Misha said. “I just wanted to talk to-“

“To me, who you’ve never talked to in all the time I was here? You’re so friendly with everyone else on set. Why me? And why the night after you failed so spectacularly with Jensen? So, you’re all loved up now, big deal.”

Misha and Jensen caught eyes. For his part, Jensen couldn’t believe that this fifty-something year old man could act this way, like a lovelorn rejected teenager.

“Just… don’t talk to us, alright? Don’t talk to me. And especially don’t talk to Misha," Jensen said.

“Aw, how sweet, a fully-grown man needs a chaperone.”

“I honestly… Mark, I’m sorry if I mislead you. I didn’t think it was a date…”

“Misha, you don’t owe this man anything,” Jensen said.

“Both of you, fuck off,” Mark said.

“Gladly,” Jensen said.

*

_“Professor Huberty?”  Virgil came into the office and silently closed the door behind himself._

_“Yes?” Asked the bespectled woman, standing up and then skirting around her desk, to shake hands with the angel. “How can I help you?”_

_“I hear you are the foremost brain in the country, on parallel universes.”_

_“Of course, it’s still a somewhat controversial theory. But, in terms of quantum mechanics-“_

_“How do I get back into another parallel universe?”_

_“Well, theoretically, if we are looking at wormholes-“_

_“No, I don’t want theories! I want truth! How do I get back into a parallel universe!”_

_The woman skirted back around the desk, glancing at the window behind her, where, on the grass opposite, plenty of students milled about, enjoying the sunny day._

_“What is your name?” When she looked back, clear fear showed in her large green eyes._

_“Virgil. I am the Keeper of the Weapons of Heaven. I am trapped in this universe of no magic… just rot and decay.”_

_“Okay, I think you should leave now…” The woman’s voice trembled slightly._

_“You can’t help me, can you?”_

_The knife slashed out and the woman’s larynx was cut. She looked up to him in terror, the light dimming from her eyes._

_“You should feel blessed. This is a release, from the disgusting nothingness of this world,” Virgil said, as the woman fell to the ground, the blood continuing to pour out of her body, in volumous quantities._

_*_

Jensen’s research quickly confirmed the death of Professor Elizabeth Huberty, of Queen’s University, the day before. As with the death of the psychic, the police had no leads.

*

As the weeks rolled by, Jensen realised that he was putting on an act of a ‘together, calm’ man. The best way to pretend was simply to decide that he was Dean. The character wouldn’t allow himself to be paralysed with fear, by the thought that his weird dreams were coming true. Dean would keep fighting for the normality of his life; keep getting up, having breakfast, learning his lines, acting, making dinner, making love to his partner.

Misha, certainly, knew something was wrong, repeatedly asking him if he was alright. He also caught the concerned whispers between Misha and Jared. But, he told himself that he was fine, fine.

Sure, the lovemaking was a little rougher than usual, in his attempt to constantly be closer to his lover, to meld with him, become a part of each other. Misha actively enjoyed the new aspect to their intimacy, except for the one time, when, while eagerly thrusting into his warm, tight body, Jensen bit so hard into his neck that he drew blood. Misha instantly shouted “Ow! What the hell is that?” causing Jensen to stop all movement and pull away from him. Nothing deflated his erection more, than his partner verbally expressing pain. Misha then made a joke about his ‘winsome not-so-virginal alabaster neck’ but Jensen did not see the humour. He had hurt his precious one and vowed to calm down more, despite his now constant racing heart. They had then made lover slower, with more dainty kisses and less rough bites.

Afterwards, as Misha lay collapsed against him, breath even and deep in sleep, Jensen slipped one of his chunkier silver rings onto Misha's slender ring finger.  Upon waking, Misha looked to the ring and said “Trying to tell me something, Jensen?”

Jensen wasn’t even sure why he gave it to him.

On set, Jared noticed the ring straight away. He acknowledged by grinning openly at Jensen and Misha.

Mark noticed too. He acknowledged by glaring at the both of them.

*

“Come on, Jensen, what’s wrong?” Jared asked.

Jared took another swig of his beer, as he eyed one of Jared’s alpacas chewing contently on the grass of the overgrown lawn. He could hear the low tones of Gen and Misha, through the fly-wire screen. Both were seated in the main lounge room and no doubt speaking enthusiastically about whatever enviro-socio-political scheme they were hatching next.

“You know the dreams? I’ve been having them again.”

Jared placed his drink down on the little patio table between them and turned his body, so that he was directly facing him.

“Virgil the angel, he was in the Quebec Sanatorium. He had forgotten everything, but then he remembered. Burnt his psychiatrist’s eyes out and escaped. I looked it up. There was an explosion at the hospital, the night of my dream.”

Jared appeared skeptical.

“Then I dreamt about a psychic, by the name of Denise O’Hanigan. Virgil came to visit her. She was a fake. Virgil slit her throat, tried to communicate with Raphael. He couldn’t. It’s true. As well as an astrophysicist from the Queen’s University, by the name of Huberty. They were both murdered, Jared. I know it sounds crazy but Virgil is alive and he’s killing people.”

“Woh woh hold on!” Jared said. “I don’t know why we’re having such profound dreams but it doesn’t mean… it isn’t real, Jensen!”

“Jared…” Jensen glanced behind him and felt unexpected tears sting his eyelids. “In those dreams I had years ago, Misha… Misha died… His throat was slit, exactly the way those people died…”

“Misha is not going to die, Jensen.”

Jensen shook his head, as the tears now ran down his face. He hastily wiped them off.

 “Have you spoken to him about this?” Jared asked, his voice lower, more soothing.

Jensen laughed. “And said what? ‘Hey I had dreams in which your throat was slit and now the guy from my dreams is doing it in reality’, like some fucked up Freddy Krueger.”

“Jensen, honestly… just talk to Misha…”

*

“We should get some alpacas,” Misha said, indicating as he merged the car onto the freeway. “I want to knit you some socks with a really sexy merkin to match, with their wool. Then we can run around in the moonlight, naked… well except for our matching merkins and socks.”

Jensen sometimes wondered if Misha said such things just to see how he’d react.

“You’re so weird…in such a delightful way…” Jensen said, leaning across to kiss his cheek.

“Most people don’t use the word ‘delightful’. Annoying is usually more apt.”

“Yes, well you can be annoying at times, but in such a sweet way.”

“Honesty…well, can’t say I didn’t ask for it…”

“I love you,” Jensen said.

“See now you’re just feeling bad…”

“Misha if anything happened to you, I would…”

“Don’t worry about that, Jensen. I’ve discovered the elixir of life. It’s hidden in the cistern of an old toilet, in the Vatican. Of course, it took a fair amount of Mission Impossible style-“

“Misha.”

“Nothing is going to happen to me, Jensen.”

“If you were hurt or… I couldn’t…”

“Jensen, it’s okay. Nothing is going to happen to me. Is everything okay?” He momentarily glanced away, from looking at the traffic through the windscreen, and at Jensen.

Jensen forced his lips to crinkle upwards. “Fine.”

*

After making love, Jensen breathed in Misha’s sweaty musk and felt tears build in his eyelids, for the second time that night.

_Well, that’s just great. Not now, not now._

“Jensen?” Misha asked, running a hand down his back.

“I love you,” Jensen said, his voice cracking.

“I love you too.”

“I’ve been having dreams… nightmares…”

“I know. You’ve been thrashing around in your sleep the past three weeks.”

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you…”

“Is this what you’ve been worried about? Jensen…” Misha lifted his chin, so he was looking into his blue eyes. “Nothing is going to happen to me, or you. We live blessed lives, okay?”

Jensen found that he couldn’t entirely believe it.

*

The first night back at home with his parents, Misha was already engaging his father in a debate about climate change.

“… all I’m saying is truth is subjective. There are different sides, different angles,” Dad said.

“Nothing could be more objective than the vast majority of scientists agreeing on the one thing!”

At the dinner table, Mom’s eyes rested on Jensen’s ring, now on Misha’s finger. Of course, Jensen was aware that nothing would get past her. She caught Jensen’s eyes and smiled.

Misha shot Jensen a look that read ‘back me up here’. Jensen agreed with Misha. It was simply that he had learnt, the hard way, that it was pointless arguing with his father when it came to politics. The father was as stubborn in these things as… as Misha was.

*

Jensen padded out to the kitchen, switching on the kettle. Mom and Dad were already seated at the dining table, his father with a newspaper open before himself, and a bowl of cereal. His mom was biting into a piece of toast.

“Misha still asleep?” Mom asked, while Jensen yawned. “So?”

“So what?”

“So, when are you going to tell us?”

“Tell you what?”

Dad placed down his newspaper and raised an eyebrow.

“The ring?” Mom asked. “It was yours but now Misha is wearing it.”

“Oh, that’s just… I just gave it to him.”

“So, you’re not…? It’s legal now, you know…”

“I know! I’m not… I haven’t even…” Jensen started to deliberately concentrate on pouring some coffee for himself, from the freshly brewed batch, before adding milk and sugar. The thought of…

“No, I can’t. We can’t.”

“What’s wrong, Jensen?” Mom asked.

Jensen came over, sat down at the table with them and took a sip of his coffee, trying to formulate into words his anxiety of the past few months.

“Sometimes I think that I’m having too much of a good thing. What if it all came crashing down? What if something happened to Misha?”

“Son, you can’t go through life worried about the future,” Dad said. “You could get hit by a bus tomorrow or live to be two hundred and five. It’s in God’s hands.”

_God’s hands._

“No, I won’t let anything happen to him.”

“Why do you think something is going to happen to him? Is there something that we don’t know? He’s not ill, is he?” Mom asked, some of the colour draining from her face.

“No! He’s fine…”

His mother shook her head and kissed his forehead. “You have a right to be happy, Jensen. Sometimes I think you forget that.”

Light footsteps sounded down the adjoining hall, and his parents suddenly seemed preoccupied with their breakfasts. Misha stepped into the room, yawning, as Jensen considered his mother’s confusion. He’d never seriously given marriage much thought, with any of his partners, but then he’d never truly given any of his ex’s much thought. Ultimately, he realised, they never held the same love that he held for the most important person in his life- himself. But now, he considered Misha. To list everything that he loved about him would take days, weeks even.

 “Coffee, good,” Misha said, pouring himself a cup.

He thought about how Misha sometimes couldn’t give an inch, when it came to his political ideals, sometimes even badgering Jensen when they were ultimately in agreeance with each other.

He thought about how Misha’s good natured silliness and teasing sometimes seemed to verge on trolling. He had long suspected that Misha did get a certain kick out of irritating people on the other side of the political spectrum.

He thought about how Misha had a habit of stealing the sheets off him, rolling himself around, until he was nicely ensconced in a cocoon of warmth while Jensen woke up with goose-bumps on his arms, wondering where the blankets had gone.

He thought about Misha’s abhorrence of anything spicy and his ability to take on any creepy-crawlies apart from cockroaches.

He thought about Misha’s occasional self-doubt and fear that he wasn’t good enough for Jensen, despite Jensen reassuring him of how much he loved him.

“What is it?” Misha asked.

Of course, he told himself, he absolutely adored everything about the man standing before him, not despite his flaws but, in some ways, because of them. They changed Misha from an abstract concept of quirk and good humour that he projected outwards, to a living, breathing three-dimensional human being.

One that he would gladly marry.

“Nothing, I was just thinking about how devastatingly adorable you are.”

“Et tu Brute… wrong response…Makes it sound like I’m about to stab you, or you’re about to stab me.”

Jensen’s smile faltered, at the thought of anyone stabbing anyone else.

*

For the next month, Jensen’s fear of Misha dying was now superseded by an even greater one; how to propose to him?

Jensen had decided to just use one of his rings but, it seemed, he could never find the right time. He told himself that he was overthinking this.

_Just do it._

But then what if Misha said no? The very thought tore at his heart, sending convoluted thoughts around his brain.

The filming for season eleven was vastly coming up. First three weeks then two. Jensen was starting to become jumpy and agitated. Misha was quiet. Of course, why not? His boyfriend had been acting like a freak, the past week.

Then one week.

Five days.

Three days.

The night before.

Misha cooked him lobster, followed by a chocolate cake. Jensen wondered what the special occasion was. Mingling in the back of his mind was the thought that perhaps Misha was making up for something? Perhaps he was going to dump him? After all he hadn’t exactly been Mr Fun Times Man all month.

Certainly, making love, Misha was as passionate and tender as ever, if not more so than usual.

Lying on his back, afterwards, still sweaty and shaky, he watched Misha roll over onto his side and place his head on the palm of his hand.

“You are so beautiful sometimes I think you can’t be real,” Misha said. “And sweet and smart.” He reached out and traced patterns down Jensen’s chest.

“Keep going, it’s great for my secret inferiority complex,” Jensen joked.

“To think, I used to think you were so self-centred.”

“I was.”

“Development. See, people can change.”

“No, it just looks good for me to have such a gorgeous creature as yourself attached to me.”

“Mm…” Misha continued to stare at him, as his hand leisurely continued stroking his flesh.

“So, what do you think season eleven has in store? I really hope that the rumours are true and they bring back Rob-“

“Marry me.”

When Jensen was eight years old, he was in the back seat of his mother’s car, when another car suddenly cut her off, forcing her to slam on the breaks so hard that Jensen careened forward in his seat, the seatbelt bruising his chest. Jensen felt the same, discombobulating feeling then, as he did now. Life was just ambling along merrily, when something occurred, to shock him out of the trance that he had been in previously.

Misha rolled over and undid his underwear drawer, rifling through and coming out with a box. As he rolled back to face Jensen and opened it, his hands shook

 “I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. It’s that simple,” Misha said,  revealing a chunky silver ring that was in keeping with the others on Jensen’s hands.

Whereas as a child, that feeling of discombobulation was caused by a terrifying event. This was earth-shattering in a far more pleasant way. In fact, Jensen felt positively giddy.

“Misha… I’ve been working up the courage to…” Jensen started giggling. “I’ve been working up the courage to ask you the exact same question! My answer is yes, by the way.” He took the ring out of the box and slipped it onto his finger, before slipping another of his own onto Misha’s hand, as Misha started to laugh, himself.

“Well then _my_ answer is yes. Great minds think alike!” Misha said.

Tbc…

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning in this chapter for gun violence, death and violence, in keeping with "The French Mistake".

“So, if you’ll recall the end of season ten, with the Darkness coming…” Jeremy started to explain, to his main actors, the basic story outline for season eleven of Supernatural.

Jensen had to admit to himself that he was impressed with how tastefully Jeremy had explored the relationship between Dean and Castiel, since their kiss in season nine. Throughout the rest of the season, and coming into most of season ten, Dean had dealt by simply not dealing, pretending that the smooch was simply a by-product of his drunkenness. If he would occasionally look at Castiel somewhat mournfully, well, that meant nothing. Nor did his now slight awkwardness around the angel. Castiel, of course, never brought it up with Dean, knowing the human perhaps better than he knew himself. Then there was the episode in which Sam managed to tease the truth out of Dean, about his feelings towards Cass. Sam then explained to Dean, who was clearly more than a little jealous of the previous Sastiel kiss, that he and Castiel were not ‘an item’. Sam knew who Castiel’s true passions were for. Dean then responded by advising Sam to never bring up the drunken kiss between him and Castiel, again, in his lifetime.

It all came to a head, at the end of season ten. The Darkness was coming and the impala was bogged in mud, so the three moved out of the vehicle, to watch the black clouds moving swiftly towards them. Convinced that he was going to die, Dean hugged Sam, and turned to Castiel, unable to now say the words as to how he truly felt about him. Instead, as the Darkness swirled around them, he took Castiel’s mouth in another, this time far more passionate, kiss.

“So, Dean and Castiel are in a fully-fledged relationship this season,” Jeremy continued talking. “And as for the Darkness…”

Jensen suddenly noticed Jared’s eyes weren’t on Jeremy but on Misha’s left middle finger. His eyes then trailed to Jensen’s left middle finger. He caught Jensen’s eyes and raised his eyebrows. Jensen reached over and lightly stroked his finger down Misha’s ring finger, smirking back at Jared.

*

As soon as Jeremy finished discussing the new season, and they were excused from his office, Jared called Misha and Jensen away into the green room. Once inside, he grabbed Misha’s left hand, holding it up and examining his middle finger.

“That ring, it was on the other finger before. Remember how we used to joke about how it was too big for you? And Jensen, that looks like a new ring. Again, on your middle finger.”

“Nothing gets past you, does it Sherlock?” Jensen said, flinging an arm around Misha’s waist and grinning at his friend.

“You mean?” Jared’s green eyes lit up with unconcealed zeal.

Jensen nodded and Misha started to say “Yes we’re-“

Jared’s scream of “Yes!” cut into Misha’s explanation, before he pulled the other two forward, into a startled embrace.

*

Upon being told the news, Gen responded in equally as enthusiastic a manner as Jared. She also screamed and then embraced first Misha and then Jensen. Her hug was only slightly less rib bruising than Jared’s, although it was equal in seeming to inhibit Jensen’s lung function.

“Alright! Champagne is needed!” As she momentarily disappeared from the broad sitting room, Jared asked them about the wedding.

“Oh, it’s going to be extravagant, of course,” Misha said. “Big party. Flamboyant outfits. Flamingos. Maybe we could exchange vows in a shark cage, with sharks swimming around us. Or, we can exchange vows while skydiving.”

“No, it’s going to be elegant. No flamingos. And definitely no sharks. And we’ll exchange vows in a church,” Jensen said, as Gen returned with a bottle of champagne on a tray, surrounded by four glasses.

“You’re no fun,” Misha pouted.

“I’m not having friggen flamingos at my wedding! A big party, fine.”

As Gen popped the cork and poured champagne into the flutes, Misha spoke.

“I honestly don’t care. I could get married in a damned tiger enclosure. As long as I’m saying my vows to the man I love, it doesn’t matter.”

“Actually, I agree,” Jensen said, as Gen handed a glass of champagne to each of them, in turn. “I just don’t want it to be all crazy, that’s all. It’s about affirming what I feel, not how many damned flamingos we can fit in front of the church, or whatever other crazy scenario you’ll cook up, Misha.”

Misha cast one of his cheeky lopsided grins in his direction, which told him that organising the wedding may well turn out to be slightly taxing for the both of them, particularly if Misha kept coming up with outlandish ideas. Jensen certainly wanted to please his fiancé, but that didn’t extend to shark cage nuptials.

“To you two,” Gen said, raising her glass. “May you live long and prosperous lives… and have an elegant yet quirky marriage.”

_Yes, perfectly said, Gen._

“To us,” Misha and Jensen said. All four clinked glasses together and then took a sip of the vibrant bubbly.

*

Jensen was so engrossed with his conversation with Misha, about whether unicorns would add a valuable contribution to the Marvel franchise, as Maison thought (Misha was, certainly on the affirmative, on that score), that he initially didn’t notice that they’d pulled off the freeway. It wasn’t until Misha drove into the dark and currently abandoned truck stop, that he realised something was amiss.

“Is this where you reveal that you’re secretly a serial killer? I do know, with Karla-“

“Don’t talk about that,” Misha said, with uncharacteristic seriousness. “I never want to discuss that ever, if that’s okay, just want to erase that from my mind. I did it and it was wrong. So wrong.  If I could go back in time…” He shook his head.

“Sorry…” Jensen said, feeling rather sheepish. He’d only brought up the serial killer film once before, early on in their relationship. At that time, Misha was uncharacteristically bad tempered, for the rest of the day, only relinquishing his sourness when, after shooting was finished, Jensen took him to a local funfair.

“Well, that very successfully killed the mood,” Misha said, grimacing.

Jensen unclipped his and Misha’s belts and then moved forward to engulf his mouth in a kiss. When they released, Misha pulled a tube of lube out of his jacket pocket.

“Better, although I think the mood would be really enhanced if we went into the back seat and you fucked me hard. Or I can fuck you hard. At this point, mood-enhancement will only reach its zenith when one of us fucks the other… hard.”

The words interested a very pertinent part of Jensen’s body.

“Yes, that does sound like a good mood enhancer. Seeing as you gave me first dibs on your body… we’ll do it that way, or I’ll do _you_ that way,” Jensen said, enjoying the flush now on Misha’s face, the aroused gleam in his eyes. “Then, when we get home, you can do me… hard. Sound a plan?”

Misha tore open the driver's side door and then rushed out of the car, pulling open the back door and clambering in, with a speed that the Flash would be impressed by.

“So, I take it that’s a yes, then,” Jensen said, opening his own car door, moving out and then opening the back door and clambering in to Misha, already undressing, on the back seat.

*

Zipping up his jeans, Jensen took a moment, to admire the still panting, trembling body of his partner; the wide blue eyes staring back up at him and self-satisfied smirk enough to send his mind over into a mush of heartsick sappiness.

“Damn you’re beautiful,” he crooned.

“Yes, it was great sex, wasn’t it?” Misha said.

Jensen replied by leaning down and kissing him, slowly and leisurely, on the mouth. He then pulled away, running a gentle finger down Misha’s left cheekbone. “Yes, beautiful,” he whispered, huskily. Misha stared wordlessly back at him. In that moment, time seemed to stretch on to eons, as Jensen was blissfully ensnared in his lover’s fathomless orbs.

“Jensen, I think you just completely wrecked me. I’ll admit I’m a bit sore, right now. But in such a fantastic way,” Misha grinned.

“I think I should drive, then,” Jensen clambered up and then opened the back door on his side, before moving to the driver’s side door.

“I think so too,” Misha said, reaching around to where they’d flung his jeans and boxers onto the car floor, under the driver’s seat, and pulling them on. “Otherwise I think, in my current state, I’ll drive the car into a tree. You’ll then have a hard time explaining to our friends and family how fucking my brains out literally ended with my brains out.”

Both then moved into the front of the car together, clipping on their belts. Misha still hadn’t bothered to do up his shirt and the proof of his own release still arced up his stomach and chest. Jensen felt enticed to lick him clean.

“Easy. Extreme post orgasmic psychosis,” Jensen said.

Misha laughed, leant over and kissed Jensen on the side of his neck.

“Thank you for the amazing sex, fiancé.”

“Yes, it was tough work, but I’m up to the task,” Jensen said, starting up the car’s ignition.

“True, true, always up for the task,” a light finger curved around his jawbone. “Beautiful Jensen.”

“For you, gorgeous, anything,” Jensen said, turning to blow him a kiss and then pulling out of the truck stop.

“Would you… save the Death Star for me?”

“Sure.”

“Would you… battle a tiger that’s been shot with adrenaline?”

“Two,” Jensen pulled back onto the freeway.

“Battle twenty tiny clowns or one giant spider?”

“Ooh spiders or clowns? Spider,” Jensen shrugged.

“Would you battle a tiger that’s been shot with adrenaline plus twenty giant clowns on the peak of Mount Everest while wearing a purple tutu?”

“Only a purple tutu? Any particular shade of purple? Are we talking light or dark purple? Glow in the dark? These factors I’d have to take into account, when battling a tiger and clowns. Actually, the clowns would make it easier. I’d throw them to the tiger then take the tiger out while it’s distracted by them.”

He could feel Misha’s eyes on him. He glanced to the side, verifying Misha’s adoring look.

“How did I get to be so lucky?” Misha asked. “Snagging the most beautiful man on earth, who also happens to be terribly sweet and funny and caring…”

“Okay, firstly, it’s not luck. You have me because you also happen to be beautiful and far more sweet and funny than I’ll ever be. Secondly, I’m _not_ the most beautiful man on earth. Or at least that’s what you told me, the first night we… failed to get together.”

“I just said that because I was annoyed by your arrogance that night.”

“I know. Well, yes, I was rather the dick that night, wasn’t I?”

Misha was silent a moment.

“Jensen, there’s been something I’ve been thinking about, the past few days. It’s about Mark. That day we went out… after yes, I stormed out of your house after accusing you of being arrogant.”

“Forget about him, Misha.”

“When he said it was a date and I said I didn’t know, I think I _did_ know. He’s right. It was after I had failed with you. You’ve got to understand, at the time I was angry with myself because, well, despite what I saw as your shallow arrogance I still wanted to bang you senseless. Anyway, so Mark asked me out for some drinks and I…yes, a part of me did know that he was… interested. And I did flirt with him that night. After what happened with you, it was nice to get that kind of attention. Anyway, he tried to kiss me at the end of the night and I freaked out and left him. And then just told myself that I didn’t, it wasn’t anything…”

“You know what, Misha, so what? None of this to me justifies Mark’s behaviour. So, you went out and flirted with him a little. That doesn’t make you a terrible person, or fake, or all the other things that Mark was accusing you of.”

“It’s not nice, toying with someone’s feelings like that.”

Jensen took a deep breath, telling himself not to allow the irritation, bubbling inside of him, to let loose, in a tirade of yelling.

_Yes, Misha, it’s your fault that Mark is an absolute asshat._

“And Mark is a grown man. He can take responsibility for his own feelings. Damn, Misha it was one night. Nothing happened between you. So what if you were flirting? So what if you actually had sex-?”

“Oh no! I definitely would not have-“

“I know, gorgeous. What I’m saying is even if you’d had sex with him, he doesn’t own you or control you and he has no right to be angry with you. You don’t owe him anything.”

“If you put it that way…”

“Yes, I’ll put it that way. Forget him, Misha. Listen to Doctor Ackles,” he took his hand off the steering wheel momentarily, to squeeze his fiance’s shoulder.

“You’re right. I can’t believe I let him get to me.”

Jensen couldn’t either. Misha’s occasional moments of self-doubt were always rather bewildering. Here was a man who was popular and, certainly, absolutely adored by his loving partner. Mark, by contrast, was an absolute ass. Why did Misha care what he thought of him?

“Hey, love you, crazy son of a bitch,” Jensen said.

“I’m not crazy, you are,” Misha shot back. “You’re the one who wants to fight clowns on high mountain tops.”

 “What can I say? Fucking Bobo has it coming,” Jensen shrugged, as Misha burst out laughing.

*

Misha was teasing Jensen, when the noise of gunshots rang through the far left corridor. His arms were wrapped around the giggling Jensen’s waist and he was attempting to lift him up into the air. Beside them, Jared was laughing. At first, no one paid attention to the sounds of the gunfire. Most of the crew were distracted by the odd symbols that had appeared overnight on the stage door. Thus far, no one had been able remove them, no matter what substance was applied.

Eric, who was visiting the set that day, telling everyone he saw about his new series (that was scoring high on Rotten Tomatoes, as he took pains to remind all in his vicinity) cocked his head towards the door leading onto set and said “Firecrackers? Why would someone-?”

The door splintered apart, the wood shattering, as the boom of a shotgun blast tore through. The tall, dark-haired figure then stepped onto set and Jensen felt as though the world had been turned around and flung upside down and then inside out. All of his muscles locked and his mouth hung open, as the angel from his dream brazenly moved further into the room, aimed his gun and fired, point blank at Eric, tearing open a bloody, gaping hole in his chest. Eric, who had been sitting beside the catering table, made a gurgling sound and then fell backwards, out of his chair.

“Virgil...” Jensen whispered.

Somewhere, in his daze, he was aware of pounding footsteps and blood-curdling screams, of equipment falling and lights being smashed. He was aware that someone was tugging at his arm, trying to force him to move. Perhaps it was Jared he wasn’t sure. A part of himself considered that this couldn’t be true, couldn’t be real. Yes, perhaps this was his dream. That could be the only explanation.

Virgil moved forward, shooting again, it seemed at random. He fired at Kevin and missed his fleeing body, instead hitting the monitor, the glass exploding and showering the fleeing crew with shrapnel. He fired again and hit Robert, his chest instantly bloodying, as he fell down and was still.

“No, no,” Jensen said,  groping backwards for Misha, who was also standing, stock-still, behind him.

“… move! Both of you, now!” Jared’s white, terrified face was suddenly right in front of his and he was now propelled into the authenticity of the action, to the horrified screams and the stampede of hurried footsteps. It was as though life had slowed down for a few moments, only to then speed up, the events around him occurring at too terrifyingly fast a pace.

“No no no,” he heard Mark’s English accent.

Virgil continued moving forward, grabbing Misha and, with overpowering strength, easily ripped him away from Jared and Jensen, before placing a knife to his throat, as Misha screamed.

_No, Misha._

Jensen felt his legs give out under him, his screams drowned out by Mark’s louder ones. Although his lover was in mortal danger, he felt frozen in place, as though his terrorized brain was too muddled to provide the correct neuronal signals for movement of his body.

“No, no no no!”

 “What a dim replica you are, in this world, Castiel. What a waste, a mere mud monkey, not the brilliant light of God that you are in other worlds,” Virgil said.

“Why are you doing this?” Misha asked, tears streaking down his face.

_This can’t be real. God, please this can’t be real!_

“Please don’t hurt him, please!” Jensen shouted, as he felt Jared’s arms around his shoulders, hoisting him up.

“I should just do it! It would be a relief, for you,” Virgil continued talking to Misha, the knife still against his throat, as Misha moaned in terror.

Jensen finally broke free of his paralysis, wrestled himself from Jared and raced forward, feeling blind panic overtake any self-protective instinct. He only knew that he had to get to Misha.

“Jensen!” Jared shouted.

 “No, this isn’t meant to-“ Mark said,  rushing forward himself, in front of Jensen.

“I should just forget the deal,” Virgil said. “But I always was an angel of my word. He is yours,” he said, to Mark. “Here take your prize.” He then took the knife off Misha’s throat and flung him at Mark, with such force that he slammed into the other man, sending them both hurtling to the ground.

“No no not like this! Not like this!’ Mark shouted, pushing Misha away from him.

“Oh yes I forgot to take out the competition,” Virgil swung the weapon around and pointed it at Jensen, who had no time to reflect on his imminent potential death, before he felt the dim impact of his abdomen exploding, followed by horrendous, unfathomable pain. His legs gave out from under him again and then darkness permeated his brain.

*

_The lone figure stood on his wide balcony, swaying a little, a beer in hand, as he contemplated the busy street below. He held the beverage out, then played at turning it around and emptying it out onto the street, before returning it to his lips._

_“Yep, fuck you too!” He shouted and then laughed. “Fuck you too.”_

_The faux humour vanished from his face and he stumbled back and then collapsed down into one of his balcony chairs. For a long time, he stared, vacantly forward, before lowering his head and sobbing, placing his now shaking hands up and resting his face on them._

_“Help me,” he whispered. “Someone, help me please.”_

_“Never thought you would ask!”_

_The man screamed, almost falling out of his chair, as the replica of himself suddenly materialised before him._

_“See, I needed you to actually ask for help, for me to come to you. Oh, don’t worry,” Crowley said, taking the beer from his hands and taking a sip. “This is a dream.”_

_Mark gaped at his doppelganger._

_“Why are the parallel dimension versions of me so damned guppy-faced? Look, you need something and I need something,” Crowley said._

_Mark pinched his arm._

_“There is an angel that needs to come back to my world. I need all the help I can get, when it comes to defeating the Darkness. I need you to go to set tomorrow and draw this symbol onto the set door, muttering this incantation. Can you do it?” He said, taking a notepad out of his pocket and placing it in the still gaping Mark’s hands. “It’s the spell needed to bring Virgil back into our world. He has all the other ingredients necessary.”_

_“This is the weirdest dream…” Mark said._

_“In return, I’ll give you what you want. Well you already have fame and wealth. You’re very well liked. Actually, what are you sooking about? Oh, I see. At least on your world Castiel and Dean are finally an item. On mine they just keep making googly eyes at each other and trying not to admit that when they masturbate they’re thinking of the other. Oh actually, there was that one make out session in purgatory, when they were convinced they were dying…Oh and that other kiss… Dean is so in denial…Anyway where am I? Ah yes, you. Will you do it?” He held out his hand._

_“What are you talking about?” Mark asked._

_“Do what I want and I give you what you want. Misha.”_

_Mark scoffed. “I don’t want Misha. What are you talking about?”_

_Crowley rolled his eyes. “You won’t have to worry about Jensen. Misha will love you. Will honour you. All of that bullshit that you humans seem to pretend to love. He’ll be your devoted slave.”_

_Mark stood up. “I think this dream needs to end now.”_

_“Oh, come on, I’m you. I know you’ve thought about fucking him. Having him moan beneath you. Looking at you like he does Jensen. It’s all very romantic. See, with me, I’d rather tie my Castiel down and-“_

_Mark started rubbing his temples. “Wake up, wake up.”_

_“How about we go about this the other way. He’ll live. Yes, I know about those dreams that you’ve been having… well both you and the Dean of your world. Virgil’s going to re-enact it. He’ll kill Eric and Robert and slit Misha’s pretty throat.”_

_Mark moved his hands down and caught his double’s eyes, his own gleaming with stark fear._

_“I can stop that from happening,” Crowley said, his voice coated in honey. “I can’t stop the deaths of Eric and Robert. But Misha, yes. I’ll even throw in sex. After all, he’s going to be grateful. It’s okay,” he said, soothingly. “This isn’t a devil’s bargain. You’re not going to die in ten years. It’s more of a quid pro quo. Help Virgil come back into our world and I’ll help you, in return. What do you say?” Crowley said, reaching out his hand._

_Mark looked at the outstretched arm, then into Crowley’s eyes, and then shook his hand._

*

Voices. Distant, as though through an old static-laden radio channel.

“He’s tachy. One sixty. Bp unrecordable. Haemorrhage is controlled, for now. Oxygen holding steady at eighty-two percent.”

“Okay, the hospital has been informed. They have a team waiting for us.”

*

_Virgil stood on the empty street, a few desolate leaves twirling around in front of him. Out of the shadows of the tall apartments overhead, appeared Crowley._

_“Return to the Supernatural set tomorrow. You have the ingredients I told you about? The me of this world has placed a portal on the stage door, to be activated by you, to return to our world.”_

_“This is a dream. How do I know it’s even real?”_

_“Perhaps not but worth a shot, don’t you think?” Crowley smiled. “Oh, and if you must kill a few of them, you must leave their Castiel alive. Kill their Dean. Infact, please do, but leave Castiel alive. He was the bargain that I struck, with the me of this world.”_

_“You always had a sick fascination with the angel,” Virgil spat._

_“What can I say? I like corrupting pure things.”_

*

Soft weeping.

Jensen wanted to reach out, to touch the weeping person but couldn’t move his finger, couldn’t even move his eyelids up.

“Jensen, honey…”

Jensen inwardly groaned. The weeping person was his mother.

 “The doctors say he’s still critical,” his mother said.

“He’ll pull through. He’s a fighter,” his father’s voice.

*

Later, his father’s voice, alone.

“Please, Jensen… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…please don’t… I’ll do anything, anything.”

*

Misha’s voice.

“So, I told West and Maison that we…” His voice broke. “They were so happy to hear that Uncle Jensen is going to be officially part of the family. Please, Jensen, please fight this. I need you to be strong. I know you can do it.”

*

_Misha stepped out into the corridor, closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. He took his mobile out of his jeans pocket and texted Jared._

_Still no change._

_He then placed the device back into his pocket, stepped across the floor and collapsed in one of the plastic chairs that lined the walls, closing his eyes. Footsteps sounded and a figure loomed over him. Misha looked up and then quickly scuttled up._

_“I want nothing to do with you. Leave me alone.”_

_“Hear me out,” Mark said. “Look, I don’t know why that man did what he did-“_

_“Fuck off!” Misha spat at him and moved to walk away._

_“Misha, please…”_

_Misha suddenly turned back to him, a dreamy, unfocused look in his eyes._

_“What do you want? What can I do to please you?” Misha asked._

_“What?”_

_Misha sank down to his knees, directly in front of Mark.. “I now live to serve you, master.”_

_“Oh my god…” Mark gasped._

_He then turned and half sprinted down the corridor, away from the other man._

_Misha stood and blinked, looking confused a moment, before sitting back down on the chair._

_*_

“So, yeah. Robert and Eric didn’t make it.” Jared’s voice. “Supernatural season ten currently playing on television is one of the highest rating shows in the world at the moment, thanks to our on set shooting. USA! USA!” There was no doubting the sarcasm in his tired voice. “We’re still shooting. It’s ridiculous. Even with one of its main stars in a coma, the show goes on. Misha is, of course just like a zombie, most days. Gen and I have been worried about him, so we’ve asked him if he’ll stay in our spare room. We think he needs to be with friends, right now. Everything is just so… please, Jensen. When you want to come back. Please, come back to us…”

*

_“Crowley! Crowley whatever your name is! Talk to me, you bastard!” Mark shouted out, from his balcony, to the street below._

_“Look, I am kind of busy,” Crowley appeared behind him. “Kind of dealing with an end of all living things as we know them-“_

_“What have you done?” Mark spun around, to face him._

_“What have I done? The deal was for you to have your version of Castiel in this universe. He will do anything you ask of him. You just have to say his name and he will profess his devotion to you and you alone.”_

_“I don’t want him like that! What the hell is wrong with you?”_

_“I am the King of Hell. Look, what did you expect? That he falls out of love with Jensen and in love with you? As in naturally? Sorry champ, I can’t control the human heart. That’s beyond me. But I can enact a spell so that he’ll do everything you say and furthermore actively think that he’s enjoying whatever your perverted mind asks of him.”_

_“I feel sick, I feel physically sick,” Mark said, clutching at his stomach._

_“I’ve given you a gift, here,” Crowley sounded most aggrieved._

_“Change him back,” Mark ordered. “You sick bastard.”_

_Crowley rolled his eyes. “The things I do for people. Never any gratitude.”_

_“I never wanted it to be like this. Just… please… change him back.”_

_“Fine then! I’ll take the spell off! Some people…”_

_*_

“Just dry… so dry, at times,” Mom spoke softly. Jensen felt soft hands comb his hair back from his face. “Jensen never thought he was funny… he’s so wrong.”

“Sometimes I like to push him, you know, say something so utterly outlandish, even for me,” Misha’s voice. “He’ll always come back with some biting, caustic remark back.”

“He’s just crazy about you. You do know that? I’ve never seen him so in love. Oh, he’s had partners, of both genders. But never like this. You’re his world, Misha.”

“Well that’s a relief, because I’m equally as crazy about him.”

*

_“Misha…”_

_Misha spun around in the hospital corridor, to face Mark._

_“Mark, I told you, I don’t want to speak to you.”_

_A look of pure relief washed over Mark’s face and he exhaled._

_“Something is wrong, very wrong with me,” Mark’s shaking voice extended to his entire body._

_Misha’s tense expression relaxed, to one of pity._

_“I need help. Look, Eric and Robert are dead. Jensen’s in a coma… I don’t know what’s happening here,” Mark said._

_“Why did he say that I was yours? The gunman? Virgil? I saw the inscription light up and then he just went through it and disappeared. And I know you’re the one who drew it. Why? What’s going on?”_

_“I think I’m going mad. Look,” Mark took a step forward, as Misha stepped backwards. “I would never hurt you. I don’t know what’s happening. I didn’t know that man, or… whatever it was!”_

_“Then why did he say that? Why did he call me your ‘prize’?”_

_“I don’t know! I just… I’ve been having these… weird dreams… I think maybe I painted onto the door in my sleep. I know it sounds… I know how it sounds…”_

_Misha’s expression softened further. He lifted a hand, as though to pat Mark reassuringly on the shoulder, but then seemed to decide against it._

_“Something’s happening. I don’t know what. Eric and Robert dying. Jensen being shot. It wasn’t meant to be Jensen. It was meant to be me,” Misha said._

_“I know. It was you who died. In another timeline. But the outcome was changed. I know, I should just be booking myself into the psychiatric ward.”_

_Misha’s eyes suddenly brightened._

_“Somehow, that makes sense to me. That’s what’s freaking me out.”_

_“The angel in my dream tried to right the wrong again. Or what he saw as the wrong, by killing the ones who died in the original timeline. I had a dream… that I met a being who could stop…I realised that I could save you. So yes, in my dream, I allowed this Virgil to return to his own parallel world, and in return, you got to live. But, believe me, Misha… I never thought that Jensen…” Mark reached out for him but Misha stepped back again. “I wasn’t going to let you die.”_

_The tears in Misha’s eyelids sprang down his face._

_“I don’t understand. I thought you hated me.”_

_“No, the truth is that I hate myself.”_

_“I can’t… I can’t deal with this right now…I need to see Jensen,” Misha said, his voice breaking, before rushing back into Jensen’s room._

*

Sobbing. Quiet, so quiet Jensen could barely hear. For a moment, he wondered who. But then the dreams came back to him; Mark telling Misha that he had made a deal to save him, that he had been the one who was meant to die.

Misha.

No, he had to fight, had to be there for his partner.

_Please, God, please, I need to fight… I need to._

The end of the hospital bed momentarily flashed before him, dozens of flowers and cards piled along the end, practically filling up the entrance. Darkness filled his vision.

No! He had to wake up, had to push through.

Misha…

Turn head. Turn head, he ordered his muscles. Slowly, his head turned.

“Misha…” His voice was raw, scratchy, ill-used.

A gasp sounded.

“Misha.”

He opened his eyes, to his partner’s beloved tear streaked face.

“Jensen,” Misha’s mouth flung open, his eyes even wider than normal.

“Misha. You’re here.”

“You’re awake! You’re awake!” Misha started laughing and sobbing at the same time. “I’ll get the doctor! A nurse… anyone.”

Misha wiped his nose and eyes and then leaned forward.

“But first,” Misha started peppering kisses along his jawline. “Don’t-“ He kissed up his cheek. “Ever-“ He kissed along his forehead. “Scare me-“ He kissed down his nose. “Like that-“ He kissed his lips. “Again.”

“I love you too,” Jensen said, cupping his jaw and engaging in a deeper tongue kiss. Misha pulled away, staring at Jensen with the widest smile that he felt obligated to return.

“A nurse… yes, a nurse…” Misha then sped out of the room.

Tbc…

 


	8. Chapter 8

After being essentially imprisoned in the hospital for three months, Jensen was more than elated to be going home. The doctors had explained to him that he had been in a coma for two weeks, following the shooting, in which he was saved by copious transfusions, after losing nearly all of his blood supply. The blast had hit the lower left side of his abdomen, splintering his lower rib cage and destroying his spleen, as well as part of his transverse and descending colon. He could survive without his spleen. His large intestine was a different matter. Thankfully, the surgeons were successful in repairing the damage.

After three months of recuperation, he was told that prognosis was excellent. His once perfect torso now bore a scar that ran down his lower left flank and he had lost a fair amount of weight, but, physically, he was going to be okay. Jensen was looking forward to going home and fattening himself up with his mother’s cooking; in particular, her world-class cheesecake.

His parents, who had flown up from Texas and had not left Vancouver in the that months he was in hospital, now insisted on talking care of him, in the remaining six weeks that he was recuperating at home. In the car ride from the hospital, his mother fussed over him, while his father drove, wordlessly stoic in the front seat. Jensen grumbled with faux annoyance at her mothering; reading out-loud his hospital instructions repeatedly and making sure that he was up to date with all of his various medications. On his other side, Misha was silent, simply holding his hand tightly, eyes locked on him with an almost Castiel stare, as though memorizing every line of his face.

They pulled up to the driveway alongside Jared’s Peugeot. It took Jensen a moment to recall that Jared had promised to be there, when he returned home, to help with anything that he needed. His mind was still a little fuzzy from all of the painkillers and anti-nausea medication. Even in the short walk from the car to the front door, Jensen felt the sting along his left abdomen. He was probably due for more painkillers, possibly the oxycodeine, he’d have to check.

Once inside, he instantly spotted Jared, standing by the lounge chair, under a banner that read “Welcome Home Jensen!” The taller man’s grin was contagious, as he strolled up to Jensen and embraced him in a rough hug.

“Jensen, it’s so good to see you out of the hospital.”

“He needs to eat,” his mother said, moving straight away to the kitchen, as though propelled there by a magnet. After smiling in an atypically congenial manner at Misha, his father followed.

“What I need is to sit down,” Jensen said.

He wandered over to the lounge room and collapsed down into it. Misha also moved and sat next to him.

_No, no. Not enough. Not close enough._

Jensen swung his legs over Misha’s, placing his arm around his waist and resting his head on his shoulder, as Misha’s hand gently stroked up and down his back. He had missed little moments like this; the ability to touch Misha, snuggle up against him, fall asleep against his warm, lithe body. In the hospital, intimacy was reduced to hand holding, or the occasional hug or passionate kiss. Jensen was too delicate, for anything more. Even now, sexual intimacy was a no go and would be for the next six weeks, where it was assumed, by his doctors, that he would be recovered enough, to have intercourse. While he was recuperating in hospital, Jensen had expected Misha to not abide by the hospital’s rules and literally jump into the cot every time he visited. However, Misha proved him wrong, by being determined not to ‘injure him further’ with a heavy make out session.

Six weeks, Jensen told himself. Six weeks and we can finally have sex again.

“How are you feeling?” Jared asked, sitting down in the armchair opposite, and leaning forward. His smile had not left his face the entire time that Jensen had arrived home.

“Hm… tired…” Jensen admitted.

“It’s so good that your parents are here, looking after you. So sweet.”

“Jared and Gen have been wonderful, Jensen, these past few months,” Misha said.

“Stop…” A light flush glanced Jared’s cheeks.

“It’s true,” Misha said. “I thought I would go crazy…They kept me going… thank god you’re going to be okay,” he whispered. Jensen then felt the pressure of soft lips to the top of his head.

“To think, I was so worried that Misha would be the one who would die. I got that one wrong.” Jensen’s brain suddenly recalled his dream, wiping the smile off his face.

Mark Sheppard had been the one to make the deal with Crowley, to save Misha. No, surely that wasn’t true, was it?

But then, everything else had been correct, particularly the part about Virgil. Why wouldn’t it be real? After all, every one of his other dreams turned out to be prophetic.

_The show is taking over. It’s insane. It’s taken over our lives and is real._

_And I’m about ready to volunteer myself into a mental asylum._

“…damned media,” Jared was saying. “Paparazzi were desperate to take a picture of you. Vultures. I made the statement, by the way. Just basically said that yes, you’d be coming out of the hospital today but would appreciate time alone to recuperate, with your family, friends and partner, Misha.”

“So, you outed us.”

“Yeah, I outed you,” Jared shrugged.

Jensen closed his eyes. “Well, it’s not like they don’t already know…”

Misha always melded so well to his body.

_…home, there’s no place like home…Misha, so warm…_

*

“… honesty, I’m more than happy to pick up whatever you need,” Jared’s voice.

“Are you sure, sweety? Because honestly…” Mom’s voice.

“Look, I promised I’d do a grocery run and I will. No problem.”

“I think he’s fallen asleep,” Misha’s honeyed tones, right close to his ear.

“Jensen… honey…” Mom said.

A hand roughly shook his arm.

_Go away, sleeping._

He turned his head, to burrow further into Misha’s chest, feeling and hearing, the mesmeric thump of his calm heartbeat.

“Adorable,” Jared said.

_Shut up! I can hear you!_

“I’m more than happy to be his human chair, right now,” Misha said.

*

“Thanks… just trying to manoeuvre around.” Misha said. Jensen heard laughter. He opened his eyes, to Misha’s hand, holding a plate with a slice of cheesecake on it.

“Well, hello everyone…” Jensen said, his voice groggy.

“Have a nice sleep?” Misha said, cutting into the cheesecake with a spoon and placing it in his mouth. Feeling a little goofy, Jensen lifted his head, to observe Jared and his parents sitting on the other lounge chairs, eating cheesecake.

“Can I have some cheesecake?” Jensen asked.

*

Misha and Jensen stripped down to singlet tops and boxers and climbed into bed together, Misha snuggling up, to place his head on Jensen’s chest, their legs and arms entangling, before Jensen pulled the blanket up over them.

“Now _this_ I’ve been looking forward to,” Jensen admitted.

“Yes, not enough snuggle time in a hospital, which I think would be very beneficial for healing.”

“Well, I am definitely not going to fall asleep. I’m just going to relish the comfort of my Misha finally back in my bed.”

“Mmm…”

Jensen closed his eyes and then slept for twelve hours straight.

*

The next six weeks came and went in a blur of mainly sleeping and being pampered by his parents and Misha. His mom and dad kept the food coming and made sure all of the housekeeping got done. Misha mainly did was he did best, which was provide Jensen with endless entertainment. Fresh in his mind was the morning that he woke up, to find that Misha had made him a ‘cheese suit’ while he had been sleeping. Jensen then decided to do even better, bringing all of his ingredients together, to make the first ‘vegetable’ suit for Misha, which of course, fell apart the moment he tried to put it on.

Even in the most seemingly mundane of entertainment, such as board games and card games, Misha kept up the ante by being a phenomenal cheat. It got to the point where Jensen demanded that he roll up his sleeves, to make certain that there were no cards hidden inside, at the beginning of every round. When Misha was caught placing the cards in his socks, he then went to even greater lengths to cheat, now taking a compact mirror to the table and using it to reflect other’s cards.

Mom told Jensen later that she had never had so much fun playing cards her entire life. His father who, as a rather sharp player, took it all rather seriously, and vehemently disagreed.

There was, certainly, the wedding to organise, in which Jensen had to circumvent Misha’s natural need for taking tradition and then throwing it away. Jensen flat out denied a royal family style wedding with Misha in drag (although he strongly suspected this was a joke), insisting that they have the wedding in a church, with both wearing tuxedos. No flamingos, no weird ‘traditions’ that Misha insisted he had culturally appropriated from the more obscure native cultures and no vows in the ocean, or in a shark tank. He conceded on not having either parent walk them down the aisle and writing their own vows. In return, Misha finally conceded on getting married in a church. His father, who had surprisingly loosened up on the whole marriage debacle (Jensen suspected his near death may had had something to do with it) even came up with a few ideas of his own.

There was also the organising of West and Maison’s rooms. As they’d be staying there for days at a time, they decided to convert the old study and storage rooms, to bedrooms. The children, of course, had a lot of say in their design (although Misha was rather disheartened to learn that Maison wanted a ‘pink’ room. It was clear that he would be more pleased with something less ‘gendered’.)

Upon meeting Misha’s children, Jensen’s parents, his mother in particular, then set about spoiling them, by buying them everything they could possibly want and even then some. Jensen had to pull his mother aside, at one point, to tell her to ease off, a little, on the gifts. ‘Grandma’ and ‘Grandpa’ vastly became Maison and West’s favourite people, as a result.

Visitors came and went. Jim, as Jensen suspected, got along famously with his father. Both spent hours, out the back patio, drinking beer and talking.

Jared was also a constant visitor, bringing food and other snacks for everyone, as well as the occasional video game or movie for them to watch. At one point, he brought along an XBox version of ‘Daytona’. Misha sat down to play with them, grabbing the third control and declaring the game ‘a little dull’ before turning his car around, on the screen, and driving it backwards around the track, to the initial dismay of Jared, particularly when he deliberately then ran his car into his. Jensen, on the other hand, couldn’t stop giggling and decided to reverse his car and do the exact same thing. Soon, all three were laughing.

*

After the sixth week, Jensen came back to the hospital to get checked out. He was told that he was healing well and would be fine to return to work the following week, but to avoid any heavy lifting. His main concern however was about sex. Could he have sex, finally?

“Yes, that should be fine,” his doctor said.

Hence a soon as his mother pulled the car up into the driveway, Jensen tore open the passenger side door, ignoring his mother’s warning to ‘take it easy'. After answering the few requisite questions from his father, he asked eagerly if Misha was back from dropping off the kids at Vicky’s. It turns out, he was in luck. He found Misha in the kitchen, boiling the kettle.

Within fifteen minutes, Misha was lying on his back on the bed, his legs around Jensen’s waist. Damn, Misha was so tight and hot. Jensen hadn’t exactly forgotten how incredible it felt, to be inside him. He simply hadn’t anticipated the almost painfully intense eroticism, of his fiance’s pliant body, warm and sweaty against his.

“Jensen,” Misha said, as Jensen felt soft fingers trail over his pumping ass. “As much as I appreciate your enthusiasm.”

“What’s wrong?” Jensen asked, stilling.

“I’m just… I know they said we _could_ , I’m just scared you’re going to injure something. Remember you’re still healing.”

_Damn, Misha. You were all gung ho, hot and heavy and all over me until this point and now you decide that we should calm down?_

“Maybe I could ride you for a bit, would you like that?” Jensen said, carefully pulling out and handing him the lube. “I’ll be careful.”

“I want you, Jensen… I just don’t want to interfere with any of your healing.”

Jensen felt a little put out that Misha, of all people, wouldn’t be wanting to be involved in high level gymnastics style sex, the moment they were able to.

“It’ll be fine. Look, it’s been months. I want you to be in me and I want to be in you and I want to suck and lick everywhere all over your body. I want you to suck me. I just want to go crazy.”

Misha laughed and kissed his neck.

“We can definitely ‘go crazy’. We’ll just do it carefully.”

*

“Wow okay well that _was_ crazy… damn…” Misha said, still panting, as he fell down onto his back. Jensen flung his leg over Misha’s waist and sat down gently on his stomach, leaning down, to kiss him thoroughly.

“Mm…good sex. I’ll give you a high distinction. I particularly liked the sixty-niner,” Jensen remarked.

“To me it’d be a toss-up between you riding my cock until I came so hard I think I suffered an aneurism, or the very hard pounding you gave me afterwards, while I was still strung out from my intense orgasm.”

“Yes, that was fun,” Jensen said now moving down to lie on top of his lover. “I love watching your o-face. I was hoping to bring you to a second one…”

“Nope you completely knocked me out with the first,” Misha said, soothing his hands up and down Jensen’s back, before cupping his ass.

“Glad I could give you the kind of orgasm where you scream like a banshee.”

“Well, considering I’ve only been using my hand, for the past three months…”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Misha that I went out and got myself shot,” Jensen planted his chin on his chest, to look up at him.

“Yes, please consider my lack of sex life while you were recuperating in hospital… Jensen…when I screamed…” Misha’s turned up lips suddenly soothed out, as his mouth gaped and his eyes widened. “You don’t think your parents…we were pretty loud.”

“No, we’re up the other end of the house.”

Jensen had never seen Misha turn that particular shade of red before.

“Oh my god, I feel utterly mortified. I don’t think I’ll be able to look them in the face.”

Jensen couldn’t help but titter.

“We really should have waited until after they left,” Misha said, still blushing furiously.

“Three more days? Forget that. Besides, we won’t be seeing them much for the next three days. Not with the copious amount of sex that we’ll be having. I have to make up for three months.”

Misha cupped his chin and brought his head forward, to engage tongues, once more.

*

Upon returning to the season eleven shoot, every single person on set came up to Jensen, to ask how he was, some even lightly embracing him, before Jeremy called everyone to order. The group formed a semi-circle around the beleaguered looking producer, standing before the stage door. Jensen suddenly noticed that the inscription, that he now knew that Mark had written on the door, had mysteriously disappeared.

“So… season eleven, everyone. Today, we welcome Jensen back on set,” Jeremy began.

There was a wild scattering of applause. Jared, standing beside him, lifted his arm up into the air and pumped his fist.

_Yes, fantastic being back to the scene of a horrendous crime. Party time!_

“Of course, as we all know, we lost two of our finest, including our creator, Eric Kripke and our best director, Bobby Singer. RIP. Also, there’s the trauma of the shooting on set. We have, course, organised counselling for anyone who feels they need it. On the plus side, we have the highest ratings ever! But yes, terrible terrible thing…” He momentarily bowed his head. “But we have to move on. Eric and Bobby would have wanted it. So, let’s finish off the greatest season yet!”

The cast and crew burst out into even louder applause. To Jensen, they could have spent a bit more time talking about the bloody aftermath of a mass shooting that left two dead and one in the hospital. But then he remembered that he was working on a television production.

*

Jensen was still not entirely up to running marathons, but he now approached television making with new gusto, taking the time to know his lines perfectly and asking the directors every day if they had any suggestions for him on how to improve. He also started implementing new strategies for bigger pranks, every day. His favourite came in the episode when Jim came back. Acting upon Misha’s suggestion, he convinced the entire crew that it was ‘Alien Appreciation Day’. Misha mocked up a bunch of badges and convinced the crew to wear them. When Jim appeared on set and saw the badges, and heard earnest stories from the crew about their ‘alien’ experiences, he too started to sport one of the badges. Upon being told the truth of the prank, at the end of the day, Jim and laughed along with everyone else, telling Misha that he’d ‘get him back.’

“Just wait, Misha… when you’re not expecting it…” Jim winked.

“How did he know that _I_ was the one who instigated the prank?” Misha asked a guffawing Jensen and Jared.

*

The following day wasn’t a Castiel day.

It was, however, a Mark day.

Jensen wasn’t sure how to deal with the man, now, particularly in relation to his dreams. So, Mark had really made a deal with the real Crowley, in order to save Misha from being killed? The whole idea just seemed so ludicrous.

But then, Virgil had been real.

Jensen didn’t know how to respond to the entire situation, so decided that the best way to respond was simply not to respond. Luckily, Mark barely talked to other crew members, that day, and only spoke to Jensen and Jared when he had to. Jensen was more than pleased with this arrangement.

Arriving back home, he’d completely forgotten that West and Maison were over that night, until he heard a loud “Uncle Jensen!” followed by a weight slamming into his legs, as he entered the front door. A second weight then slammed into the first, almost pushing him back into the outside walkway. As he knelt down and gave Maison and West a hug, Misha came into the room, wiping his hands with a tea towel.

“Heya,” As Jensen stood, Misha walked up to him and kissed him on the lips. “Good day?”

“Tiring day,” Jensen admitted. “I think I’ll take a shower, if that’s okay.”

“Well we had lasagne for dinner. Leftovers are in the fridge. Kids are going to bed soon. They really want you to read to them.”

“Sure, I can do that.” Jensen wanted to talk to Misha about Mark but knew it would have to wait. The children, of course, took preference.

*

“Well, West seems pretty sleepy,” Jensen said, taking the glass of red wine off Misha and taking a sip, as he sat down next to him, on the couch. “I suspect Maison will be up for hours. She’s incredibly bouncy tonight.”

“She’s incredibly bouncy always,” Misha said, kissing down Jensen’s face, before loping a leg around and crawling onto his lap, their tongues now entangling. Misha’s grin, as he pulled away, quickly faded.

“What’s wrong?” Misha asked.

Jensen didn’t even bother asking how he knew.

“It’s Mark…”

Upon hearing the name, Misha scowled.

“What about Mark?”

Jensen took another sip of the wine.

“Misha… I don’t know how to say this…You know how I told you about the dreams?”

“The dreams about Virgil? You told me you dreamt about him coming towards us and killing people along the way?”

Jensen nodded. “Misha, I had dreams when I was in the coma and even after. It’s going to sound crazy, I know… but in the dream, Mark made a deal with Crowley, as in the _real_ Crowley, from a parallel dimension. He knew that Virgil was coming to set, and was going to kill you, Robert and Eric, then go back to his own dimension. Mark made a deal to save you, in return, he’d allow Virgil to go back to his own dimension.”

“Jensen…” The frown line had not disappeared from Misha’s forehead.

“And I saw Mark talking to you, in the corridor, telling you that he... he wanted to save you. That he’d made this deal.”

“That’s true. That did happen,” Misha said, eyes widening a little.

“Mark thinks that he’s in love with you. It’s more that he’s obsessed with you. If I were you, I’d be weary of him.”

Jensen remembered Crowley’s ‘love spell’. Mark, thankfully, was clearly disgusted by the thought of Misha being forced to return his affections. However, he also recalled the slight glint in Mark’s eyes, when Crowley had hinted that he could make Misha his slave.

“I’m not too worried about Mark,” Misha said, plucking at the buttons on Jensen’s shirt.

“Maybe you should be,” Jensen said.

“Look, I’m not going to pretend that something really strange isn’t happening right now. But Virgil is back in the other dimension. And you’re going to be okay. But then, we lost Eric and Robert. That was… pretty fucking horrible.”

“I can’t even begin to comprehend it all… In the coma, I heard you, crying. You’d just spoken to Mark. And you told him it was meant to be you, not me, who was killed. I heard you crying in my room and I had to come back to you. I came out of the coma because I needed to come back to you.”

Misha grabbed the glass out of his hand and placed it on the floor and then cupped his face, the kiss now ferocious in its intensity.

“I need you, right now,” Mish said. “I need to make love to you.”

“Well, if we must…” Jensen grinned.

*

The loud clang of the alarm clock pierced Jensen’s eardrums. He groaned, rolled over and smacked the off button.

“Ten minutes,” Misha said sleepily, propelling half of his body forward to cover Jensen’s, his head resting on his chest. “Ten minutes of Jensen blanket.”

“It’s more that you’re _my_ blanket,” Jensen said, flopping his arm around Misha’s waist. “No, I’d better get up, or I’m just going to go back to sleep.”

Misha gave a half-groan, half-whimpering sound.

“I’ll make it up to you tonight, okay?” Jensen said, running a hand through his tousled hair.

“Why do we always have to start at such ridiculous times of the morning? Not even the kids are up yet!”

“I know… you give the kids a hug for me, okay?”

“Mmm…”

“And tell West that spiderman would win in a fight against batman.”

“Absolutely untrue,” Misha murmured.

With great hesitancy, Jensen rolled out of bed.

*

Jensen thought he could go another full day without talking to Mark. However, after Jeremy called ‘cut’ on the final scene and Jensen went to walk off set, Mark cornered him.

“Can we talk?”

Jared, standing nearby, shot him a wary look. Jensen shrugged back at him. He hadn’t told Jared about the dreams while in the coma. No point in causing him undue anxiety, he told himself.

“Sure, I guess we can go… we’ll go to my trailer.”

Both were silent the short walk off the set to the trailer.

Once inside, Jensen didn’t bother offering any drink to him. Instead, he folded his arms and spoke.

“You know we’ve both been having the same dreams.”

“Virgil,” Mark said.

“I know about Crowley, Mark. I dream it. I know about the deal you made. I know about the spell.”

Mark visibly flinched.

“I dreamt it all. I saw you talk to Misha, in the corridor. Saw him… kneel before you.”

“Then you should also know that I… I would never… Jensen, I didn’t know that Virgil was going to harm you. I didn’t want to harm anyone. I just wanted to save Misha. He was going to kill him!” Mark’s pallor had visibly paled.

“You wanted him all to yourself. He’s not a damned robot or sex doll that you can just have your way with. He’s a human being-“

“I didn’t touch Misha!” Mark shouted, tiny red splotches now appearing on his face. “I told Crowley to take the spell. off him. I didn’t want that. I only wanted to save him from dying.”

“Yes, because you love him so much,” Jensen made clear his sarcasm.

“I have been acting like an absolute ass, I’ll admit it.”

“An ass? You allowed an angel to come on set-“

“Who was on his way to our set anyway, he was going to kill everyone anyway. That was his plan, to kill Misha, Bobby and Eric. I helped him get back into his own world, so he couldn’t cause any more damage on ours. Jensen, I had no idea that he was going to shoot you. Honestly!”

“Why don’t you just admit it? You wanted me to get shot, so you could live your bizarre fantasy of Misha then running into your arms.”

The splotches on Mark’s face now blossomed, so that the flesh was now a dull red colour.

“Oh, fuck off, right there. I don’t want Misha to do anything that he doesn’t want to! Am I jealous of your relationship? Fine, I’ll pay that one. And yes, I’ve acted like a complete ass towards Misha, for no reason, really whatsoever. Because _I’m_ a jerk, not him.”

“I just… I don’t understand you, Mark,” Jensen told himself that the conversation was getting out of hand. They weren’t going to get anywhere if they just kept shouting at each other.

“Look, when I started working here, people weren’t exactly friendly. Except for Misha. He was just such a light. So friendly to everyone. So charming. He made every day a delight to work. And I fell for him. Hard. For the first time in my life, even though I was married at the time, I fell for another man. And then you decided you wanted him, amazing handsome Jensen Ackles, and that was that. So, rather than cut my losses, I decided to act like a complete prick, especially towards him.  Because that is what I do.”

“You know, this really isn’t engendering me towards you,” Jensen admitted.

“I know I’ve been… I know there are no words for the way I’ve acted. I have… issues, I get it. But believe me when I say that I only wanted to keep Misha safe. Do you think I would allow him to be _murdered_ , given the chance to stop it?”

“What do you want from me, Mark?” Jensen asked. All of this talk of spells and angels and murder was making him feel rather lightheaded.

“I just wanted to explain, to apologize. You’re with Misha. And that’s fine-“

“I don’t need for _you_ to say whether or not my relationship with my fiancé is fine.”

Seeing the sudden look of shock that crossed over Mark’s face, Jensen suddenly realised what he’d said.

_Well, he probably knew anyway. It’s not as though our relationship status isn’t all over the gossip mags, right now._

“Oh, congratulations. This is all coming out wrong. Look, I just… I’m sorry…”

“I’m really not the one you should be apologizing to. Please bang your head on the way out.”

“I really am sorry.”

Jensen continued to glare at him.

_Please just leave._

Mark averted his eyes, nodded and  then opened the door and stepped out of the trailer.

Tbc…


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go.  
> Thanks to all who are reading :)

As he did with Jensen, Mark at least waited until Jeremy yelled “Cut!” on the final take of the season, before pulling Misha aside to talk to him. Perhaps he had rightfully figured out that this way, when the inevitable screaming match happened, it didn’t disrupt filming. Although Jensen found Mark to be exceptionally frustrating, of late, he still did not expect Misha to be the one to lose his temper.

He was standing with Jared, hovering over the catering table and making awkward small talk, when it happened. Of course, Jared and himself were deliberately lingering near the green room door, mainly for concern for Misha. Jensen didn’t quite trust Mark to not upset his fiance.

When Misha stormed out of the room, a very uncharacteristic look of pure fury distorting his usually placid features, a sinking feeling descend in Jensen's guts. He truly was not gratified to be right.

“Just leave me alone, Mark…” Misha said, storming straight past Jensen and Jared and towards the exit door.

“Misha, would you please just stop for a moment?” Mark said, following behind him.

“What you did was wrong, so very wrong!” Misha continued rushing forward, not giving Mark the courtesy of facing him.

Everyone on set, including Jeremy, who had been standing by the monitor with Kevin, conferring on footage, stopped what they were doing, to watch the commotion.

“I didn’t bloody do anything!” Mark argued.

Misha finally spun around to face him. “You think because you didn’t do _anything_ , that makes you some kind of champion? Because you didn’t abuse my autonomy, essentially violate me, that makes you a swell guy?”

Oh, Jensen finally understood what all of the ruckus was about.

Mark had evidentially told Misha about Crowley’s love spell.

“No, I don’t think I’m a _swell_ guy but I at least deserve some credit for making sure that you weren’t _viciously murdered_!” Mark’s voice now rose, to be at the same level of decibels as Misha.

“Do you think maybe that was _meant_ to happen? Maybe it was the way things were meant to be and you messed that up? Messed with the natural order?” Misha asked.

Jensen placed his hand on the catering table behind himself, feeling suddenly unsteady on his feet.

_Misha believes this, truly? That he was meant to die, as some sort of natural order?_

“Alright, alright! I’ve had enough!” Jeremy said in a loud, authoritative tone, before stomping over to the two men, his own features twisted in a snarl.

 “You two!” He pointed at Misha and Mark. “And you two!” He then pointed at Jared and Jensen. “Green room, now. I’m locking you four in until you sort out your damned issues. You’re all acting like children. Fine then, you can be in timeout, like children.”

“But, what did I-?” From his expression, Jared was clearly flabbergasted.

“In the green room, now!”

With equal disgruntled faces, all four stepped into the room and Jeremy slammed the door shut behind them. Jared then rattled the handle.

_Does Misha really think that little of himself?_

Jensen felt his stomach twist into intricate knots.

“Damn, he really has locked it. Why am _I_ in here? _I_ wasn’t doing anything!” Jared pouted.

Jensen didn’t reply. He was too busy trying to control his shaking viscera, that extended out to his hands. He found he couldn’t look in Misha’s direction.

“Okay, how about we try the… ah… script approach?” Jared said, picking up a stray script from one of the chairs nearby. “Whoever has the script can talk. And we start with an ‘I feel’ sentence. Okay, I’ll go first. I feel annoyed that I’m in this room. And I feel hungry. I really feel like a burger, right now. Who wants to go next?”

No one spoke.

“Jensen?” Jared asked.

Jensen felt the script being thrust into his hand.

“Go on… I feel…”

Jensen glared at Jared’s hopeful face. He was more than aware that his friend had gone into therapy in the past. This must have been one of the ridiculous therapeutic ‘methods’.

“Fine, I feel…” What did he feel? “I feel like I can barely look at you right now, Misha.”

“Me? What? What’s wrong, Jensen?”

“What’s wrong?” Jensen looked up. The astonished look on Misha’s face propelled bile up his oesophagus. “What’s _wrong_? What the fuck were you talking about, your death was ‘the natural order’?”

‘No, no Jensen I didn’t mean-“

“That it was meant to be? Is that how _little_ you think of this life? ‘Oh, if I am viciously murdered, then that’s fine. All part of a natural order'.  I’ve never heard such astonishing _bullshit_ my entire life. In fact, I’m _offended_ , Misha.”

“No no I didn’t mean…Jensen, if it’s a choice between me dying or you. And it was… you almost died, Jensen… I would take me. Every time.”

“Oh, such _nobility_! Who’s the hypocrite now?” Mark asked. “So, you’ve got some crazy notion in your head that you can somehow sacrifice yourself, for the good of others.”

“No, no you’ve got it all wrong-“ Misha said, desperate eyes flicking towards Jared, as though for help

“I’m not hearing any ‘I feel’ words right now,” Jared said, clearly trying to take some control back of the conversation.

“I never thought I’d say this, but I agree with Mark. This is just another example of your lefty-sentimental bullshit!” Jensen said. “What about me or-?” He stopped himself from saying Maison and West, realising that would be going too far. “Is me being forever pained by your death also a part of the _natural order_?”

“No, it’s not,” a sheen of sweat now glistened on Misha’s forehead. “I swear, it’s not me being noble or…Jensen, when you almost died I… Jared you saw, I was a wreck…. I couldn’t… I barely ate. I couldn’t sleep. So, fine call me selfish. If it was a choice between me dying and you, then I would pick _me_.”

“See that doesn’t make me feel great, Misha. In fact, the opposite. I was the one in hospital and it sounds as though you made it about how _you_ felt!” Jensen shouted.

Misha’s face visibly crumpled.

“I’m sorry…” Misha said, looking down to the ground, his voice sounding very small. “I’m so sorry.”

He blinked and tears ran down his cheeks. He raised a hand to wipe them, only for more to replace the others.

_Well, great. Fantastic, on making him cry._

Jensen felt his resolve break. A part of him wanted to believe that Misha was deliberately creating tears, as a ploy to make him stop, but then realise that Misha would not be that cruel.

 “Jensen, you were dying,” Misha said. “They kept telling us to have no hope, or that you’d be brain damaged. So yes, I was just absolutely devastated.”

“We all were,” Jared said.

“I’m sorry, Jensen. I didn’t mean to say that my life doesn’t have value, compared to yours.” 

Jensen strongly resisted the urge to step over and embrace him, to cover his tear-streaked face with comforting kisses.

“Do you honestly believe that your death was _meant_ to happen?” Jensen said, taking a step towards Misha.

“I did think that… but believe me, I wasn’t… I felt terrified. I don’t want to die. But then you almost died. I honestly thought you would and I… Every one’s dreams… no, I don’t want to die. But I didn’t want _you_ to die either.”

He caught Jensen’s eyes, blue on green. Jensen believed him. In Misha’s constantly mobile expressions, there could never be any lie, to his words.

_Damn it, Misha._

Jensen gave in, closed the difference between them and pulled Misha against his body, wrapping his arms around his shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Jensen if I made you feel…” Misha said, his own arms hugging tightly to Jensen’s torso.

“Sh… it’s okay,” Jensen said, wiping Misha’s tears away with his fingertips.

“It doesn’t matter, any of it, anyway,” Mark began.

The door clicked open and a very white faced Jeremy suddenly came rushing in.

“Because we’re all going to die, anyway,” Mark finished.

“Everyone, come outside…” Jeremy said.

“The Darkness… she’s destroying everything… all of the parallel universes…” Mark said.

“What?” Jensen said, moving his head away from Misha’s to stare incredulously at the man, as his hands lightly stroked the small of Misha’s back.

“You need to see this!” Jeremy said. “Come with me!”

Was it Jensen’s imagination, or had the temperature suddenly dropped?

Slinging his arm around Misha’s shoulders and gripping him tightly, Jensen followed the others, out of the room and onto the set, where the various crew were running to the stage door exit. Jensen started to shiver. Yes, the temperature had definitely decreased, in the past few minutes. Frowning, Misha slung his arm around Jensen’s shoulder, and started rubbing his arm, in a rather adorable but ultimately useless attempt to cease his trembling.

“It’s the end,” Mark said, ominously.

Jensen glanced at Jared, who shrugged.

The four followed after Jeremy and the others through the stage exit door and down the tiny corridor, to the door leading outside. Once they stepped onto the set lot, Jensen looked up and gasped. The sky was raining ash. It fell down in little black snowflakes, covering the cars nearby like funeral shrouds. Men and women from various other productions also came out of other stage doors, to view the phenomena, although there was curiously no panic, just dozens of people walking around, with identical stunned expressions, pointing at the cars or up at the sky.

Jensen looked up, to observe the sun partially covered by a black cloud, tiny rays of sunlight flickering away, as though determined to flee from the approaching darkness.

Darkness, Jensen thought, squeezing Misha closer to him, and looking now directly at Mark.

“The end of everything…. Crowley warned me, in a dream, last night. I didn’t believe it…The Darkness wants to destroy all of her brother’s creations.” Mark whispered.

If it were any other time and place, Jensen would have been straight on the phone to a good psychiatrist, perhaps the one that Jared used, putting forward a case for involuntary institutionalisation, for the Crowley actor. However, given everything that had happened, of late, he could no longer deny the truth.

“We’re really all going to die?”

Mark nodded and, for the first time, clear fear showed in his expression. He blinked and tears ran down his face, his chest rising and falling, in rapid fashion.

“I need to… I need to call my children…” Misha took out his mobile. Jensen noticed that his hands shook, as he dialled Vicky’s number.

“How long?” Jensen asked Mark, taking Misha’s other hand and holding it.

“An hour tops.”

_The last hour of my life. Of all of creation. This can’t be happening._

“I need to call my parents,” Jensen said, taking his own mobile out from his pocket with his free hand and dialling his parents’ landline number.  Before he pressed the little green phone icon, he looked around. Jared had gone over to Jeremy and was embracing him. In fact, he noticed that everyone else was either comforting others, or crying on their mobiles. In humanities’ last hour, on this lot, at least, they had taken to calling up loved ones and crying and hugging each other.

But for Mark; he stood by himself, looking miserable and scared, staring up at the steadily darkening sky and shivering.

Misha glanced at Mark but then looked away, a troubled expression on his face. “Yes, Vicky, I need to talk to the kids…”

This man, who had wanted to save Misha, who had enacted the spell, so that Virgil could successfully depart this world. Sure, he had not acted as the most perfect human, but then, who had, in this time? Even with the temptation of Crowley’s spell, Mark hadn’t allowed himself to be corrupted, to use the power of the spell to take Misha from Jensen.

Jensen thought about all of the times in his life, when he’d acted like a selfish prick. There had been more than a few. The years wasted, when he didn’t even bother to get to know the amazing man he was currently holding hands with, because he was Jensen Fucking Ackles. Too good for anyone. Especially not the ‘bit angel actor’, who he presumed would leave after a few days filming, anyway, but then kept getting more episodes to film. So, he’d yelled at Mark, for being rude to Misha, when he’d acted the exact same way, initially. Who was he to judge?

“I’m sorry, Mark,” Jensen said.

“West…” Misha’s voice broke.

Deciding to give him privacy, Jensen let go of his hand and moved a metre or two to his left. Mark followed.

“I’m sorry about everything.”

Mark placed a hand on Jensen’s shoulder.

“So am I,” Mark said. “We really have fucked up, haven’t we?”

“Yeah,” Jensen laughed a little. “I know I’m good at that.”

“So am I,” Mark admitted. “I’m the expert at doing the exact things to really mess up my own life.”

His eyes then flicked to Misha and then landed back on Jensen.

_Remember, Jensen, you were just as much a prick as he was. Maybe still are._

“I don’t want to die being angry at anyone, or bearing hatred. I forgive you, Mark.”

“Thank you, Jensen,” Mark said, loudly exhaling.

For a moment, both stood, silently acknowledging each other. Jensen felt oddly comfortable with the lack of verbal interaction, before Mark nodded at him.

“I’m going to… I’m going to call my parents,” Mark said.

“Yeah, good idea.”

Jensen stepped away from him and pressed the little green phone icon on his mobile screen, before placing it to his ear. It only took a couple of rings, before he heard the sound of his mother’s voice.

“Jensen.”

“Mum…” Jensen felt tears sting his eyes.

“What’s happening, Jensen?” He could hear the quaver, in her voice. “On the news they’re saying that… it sounds impossible… our sun is dying… How can that be?”

“I don’t know… Mom, I love you, okay?”

“Sweetie, you’re scaring me…”

“I just need to say it. I love you.  I’m sorry for the times when I… I know I was difficult, at times. I just wanted to say sorry.”

There was a brief pause. “I love you too, darling,” she said, quietly. “So much.”

Jensen closed his eyes, allowing the tears to run down his face.

“Can you put dad on?”

“…sure…”

“Son…” Dad’s voice sounded unnaturally raw.

“Dad, I love you.”

“Son, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. When you were in the coma…. I just, I couldn’t…I would be honoured to have Misha as a son in law. I don’t care about your sexuality. You’re my son…”

 “Thank you, dad. Just… I love you both so much,” Jensen wiped his nose and face, which was now dripping with tears and mucous.

“We love you too, son.”

He hung up. Jared strolled over to him, seeming to be the only one currently dry-eyed. Jensen eagerly received his embrace, squeezing Jared against his smaller frame.

“I’m sorry for… I’m sorry we didn’t get to know each other sooner,” Jared said. “I count you as my closest friend now. I need you to know that.”

“Me too. As in, you’re also my best friend.”

They let go of each other and Jared favoured him with a wide grin.

“You’re still a dick, though.”

Jensen laughed. “That’s _Mr._ Dick to you.”

Misha appeared beside him, also wiping his eyes with one hand, as he grabbed Jensen’s hand, with the other.

“Jared…”

“Hey, it’s okay… you’re the best, man,” Jared said, now pulling Misha into a tight embrace.

 “I know… this sucks…” Jared said, releasing Misha. “I need to be with Gen and Thomas.”

Jensen nodded. “I understand.”

“I’ll probably die on the way there, but at least I’ll try.”

Watching him walk away, Misha spoke. “For the first time in my life, I’m at a loss for words. I just… I don’t know what to say…”

Still holding Jensen’s hand, he walked them over, to where Mark had just hung up his mobile and was standing, with his head in his hands.

“Mark…” Misha said.

Mark looked up. The agony leeching from his brown irises was almost enough to make Jensen want to physically take a step back.

“Mark, I…”  His blue eyes flashed with emotion.

Mark nodded, seeming to understand what Misha couldn’t say. “Thank you, Misha.”

Both stood, awkwardly, a moment, before Kevin called out to Mark. Relief swept across his face, and he rushed away from the two other men.

“So, what declaration are we going to say to each other?” Misha said laconically, tears running freely down his face, as he then placed his arms around Jensen’s waist. “Should we go somewhere more private?”

Jensen took his hand and led him away, down the path towards his trailer.

“I’m really sorry about what I said earlier,” Misha said. “I understand now how offensive it was.”

“It’s okay,” Jensen reached up to run a hand through his soft hair. “Just… in the short time that we have left, please understand that you have value. I love you. I wouldn’t pick just anyone to be my fiancé. How awesome _you_ are reflects on _me_.”

“I always knew you would bring it back to you,” Misha said, smiling through his tears.

They reached the trailer and Jensen opened the door.

“After you.”

Misha came inside and Jensen followed, both wrapping their arms around each other, as the door slammed shut, behind them.

“Okay, declaration time. I am almost painfully in love with you,” Misha said. “If the word’s going to end, I can think of a worse way to spend it than with the man of my dreams. Well, seeing the aurora borealis, while drinking insanely expensive French champagne in a twenty-thousand dollar jacuzzi that… no no the jacuzzi should have champagne instead of water-”

“Misha please shut up, I don’t know if I want to spend the last few minutes of my life with you babbling about jacuzzies,” Jensen said, kindly. “Just, listen to me. I…”

Only his words failed. How could he even begin to tell Misha what he meant to him? The varying ways in which he’d changed his life? How even looking at him was medicine to his very soul?

“I just love you so much,” Jensen said, tenderly cupping his chin and placing his lips on his, their tongues gently melding together.

As they pulled apart, naturally, the room suddenly became intensely bright, highlighting the pale blue of Misha’s irises, adding a reddish tinge to his dark hair.

“Every day you astonish me… just by being you,” Jensen said, trailing a finger down his jaw. “Everything about you I just find endlessly adorable and wonderful.”

They locked lips, once more.

Screams sounded outside. No Jensen realised, not screams, shouts, cheers.

Jensen and Misha pulled apart again. He suddenly realised that not only was the room a lot brighter, but he was no longer cold, the temperature suddenly rising by a good twenty degrees.

“It’s been fixed… I don’t know how…” Jensen said, somehow knowing, instinctively. “But somehow… we’re going to be alright…” He broke out into shocked laughter. “We’re going to be okay!”

Unable to control himself, Jensen allowed his exhilaration to come out in a scream, as he pulled Misha to him, once more, squeezing his arms around his ribcage.

“I know. It would be the Dean from the other world. He would have done it. He would have saved everyone. I don’t know how…” Misha said, eagerly returning the hug.

Jensen didn’t much care who saved them, although he suspected that Misha was probably right. They were alive, gloriously so. More time for kisses and making love and berating Misha for his cheating at games and pranks and reading bedtime stories to West and Maison and playing video games with Jared and finally going on that fishing trip with Dad and-

The list went on. Countless new discoveries to be made, paths to be taken, experiences to enjoy.

_Alive._

Jensen once more took his fiance's mouth in a kiss and, as cheers continued around them, both stumbled over onto the cot and fell down onto it, in a tangle of arms and legs.       

Tbc…    

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all who had read/kudo'd/commented on this crazy fic that I've written. :)

Jensen stood behind the convention table, beside Mark, his eyes continually drawn to Jared and Misha, a few metres to his right, whispering to each other and laughing, Misha’s hand on Jared’s shoulder.

“What do you think? Gold highlighter or silver?” Mark asked, he suspected in a deliberate ploy to bring his attention back to the line of people before him.

It only took the end of life in the universe, for the four men to be in the same room together, with no tension. Unfortunately, he would never be good friends with Mark, but he could now tolerate him, even find him rather witty. Mark was also wary to keep himself distant from Misha. He was never rude to him, not any more, but he was oddly congenial towards him, saving his charm for others on set. Jensen suspected that this was out of respect for the love potion that his parallel self felt right to place on his fiancé.

“Gold is the go,” Jensen replied, and then turned to the giggling woman in front of him. “Hey there!”

He had to admit, to himself, that conventions were easier when he was younger, and substantially more self-interested. It had been enjoyable to bask in the glow of how wonderful everyone thought that he was. Now, however, he only wanted to bask in the glow of one person- Misha. This led him to realise a key aspect of his personality; his narcissism had actually been a cover for the fact that he was a little shy and socially awkward. Glancing across at Misha and Jared, as he signed, he realised it wasn’t jealousy that he felt towards them, as he initially had thought, but envy. They seemed to not be the least bothered, by the immense crowds vowing for not only their attention but their opinions, their unsolicited conversation. For his part, Jensen simply didn’t know what to say to people.

*

This awkwardness carried over into their panel, where Misha and Jared did the majority of the talking. Jensen was polite and answered when questioned. However, Misha and Jared were the ones that mainly kept the crowd laughing. As Misha would tell yet another Supernatural related anecdote, Jensen would simply gaze at him, allowing all of the feel-good love chemicals to wash over himself. Realising that he had a dopey smile on his face, he then turned his attention off his fiancé.

Questions about their relationship were considered completely off-topic and therefore not allowed. Jensen was more than proud to call Misha his life partner, but, to him, there was level of sacredness to the relationship, an intimacy that he didn’t want to share with others. Even when out, or on set, he simply wasn’t as tactile as he was when they were at home, where kisses and embraces were common. Certainly, he couldn’t resist, at times, touching Misha when out in public, even occasionally kissing him. But, on the whole, his true romantic nature was on full display behind closed doors. He suspected he took after his own father, in that way.

“So,” said a rather breathy audience member, standing before the microphone situated in the centre aisle of crowd. “This is to Jared, Jensen and Misha-“

The blonde had a clear American accent, despite the convention taking place in London. She could still be a local, or be the type to follow them. There were fans that went from convention to convention

“Aw, I miss out?” Mark, who was sitting on the other side of Jensen, frowned.

“What was it like filming the first kissing scenes, with Castiel?”

_They always ask the same question._

“I remember reading the script and thinking ‘Okay, Sam’s taking an interesting turn, this season’,” Jared said, to laughter from the audience. “They made us do it about twelve times. Different takes ‘more passionate’ ‘less passionate’ ‘back him up against the wall’ no you back him up against the wall’. And of course, at that stage, Jensen and Misha were together so, yeah, it was also awkward to be kissing Jensen’s boyfriend in front of him. Repeatedly.”

The audience continued to laugh and clap, clearly finding Jared’s answer incredibly entertaining.

“I remember your lips were very dry,” Misha said.

“Yeah we both needed chapstick afterwards.”

“Well, I always thought that Castiel and Crowley should have kissed. At least once. Hey, if Dean and Sam can kiss him, why not give Crowley a go?” Mark said, and cheers erupted from the crowd.

“The kiss with Dean was the same,” Misha said. “A dozen takes… actually, a lot of the women suddenly came on set that day, to watch.”

“Yeah, I noticed that!’ Jared said.

“It was sweet for Castiel and Dean,” Misha continued. “With Sam, it was more… that was such an interesting season, the whole confusion between the characters. I think, with them, it was more physical. With Dean… well, Cass has always been in love with him. But the filming of the scene with Dean it’s… awkward to kiss on film, in front of about thirty people, even if it is with your boyfriend.”

“I agree. Lots of takes. Made it a little awkward, with everyone watching. I love it how they used the take with Sam, where he pushed Cass up against the wall when they kissed, and with Dean, the take they used was the one where Castiel was the one who manoeuvred them to the bed. Says a lot about the three characters,” Jensen said.

Another woman came to the microphone.

“Firstly, Jensen, I just wanted to say how relieved we all are that you managed to pull through, after that terrible shooting incident.”

The entire audience broke out into applause. Beside him, Misha took his hand, to the flash of cameras.

“My question is for Mark.”

“Finally!” Mark fist pumped the air, as Jensen laughed.

“What do you think will ultimately happen to Crowley? Or what do you want to ultimately happen to him?”

Jensen always watched him curiously, when he answered any questions about Crowley, in the knowledge that he had actually met his ‘character’. Surely, this was more than a little surreal for him.

“Oh, he’ll probably die, hopefully protecting the world from some all-encompassing evil. I hope not, but what I’d love would be for him to just keep ruling hell and giving them Winchester boys trouble.”

“And Castiel?” Someone called out, from the audience.

“Keep giving them Winchester boys _and_ Castiel trouble.”

Another woman with bright purple hair came to the microphone.

“This is for Jared. Do you think Sam will ever go back to college?”

“I was thinking about this, surely Castiel could teach him a thing or two…Keep your minds out of the gutter people,” he said, to cheers and laughter.

“Oh no keep them _in_ the gutter,” Misha said. “I want this to be as raunchy as possible…”

“We’re in a public venue, Mish,” Jared said. “We’re not at yours and Jensen’s house on a Saturday morning.”

The audience broke out into cheers and Misha reached out and smacked Jared on the arm, as he smiled back at him, in appropriate superior fashion. Jensen tried to play along but couldn’t think of a word to say. He could also feel his face heating up. Fresh in his mind was the previous Saturday morning. They had the whole day to themselves, so implemented some rather raunchy action, indeed, right on top of the kitchen table.

“Or yours and Gen’s on a Saturday morning,” Misha fired back.

“What are you suggesting? I am a paradigm of virtue,” Jared said. “Saturday mornings for me involve chaste kisses and whimsical reading of poetry. Speaking of which, do you have any you want to read to us, of yours?”

“I think I’ll pass, sorry,” Misha said.

“Keeping it all for Jensen, then,” Jared laughed.

“Just the tragic romantic stuff,” Misha said, dryly.

Jensen shook his head. Misha had, in fact, never read any of his poetry to him, seeming oddly protective of his own work. Besides, why the disclaimer about not talking about their relationship if Jared was just going to bring it up? He had the distinct feeling that Jared was amusing himself.

*

After the panel, then came the countless photos. By two hours in, Jensen’s brain felt as though it was about to pound out of his skull. He continued to smile and hug the fans, feeling genuinely happy to see them, it was simply that his headache was not being relieved, despite the two tablets that Misha had given him, thirty minutes earlier. His frustration was not helped by the fact that Misha and Jared’s photo sessions finished on time, whereas his ran over.

By the time he made it back to his and Misha’s hotel room, he was more than ready to simply lie down and sleep for the next twelve hours. However, as soon as he placed the hotel card in the lock and opened the door, it was obvious that Misha had other plans. He was wearing a bathrobe and had closed all of the blinds.

“Well, hello there handsome,” Misha said, moving with his usual slinky grace to the table opposite the bed, upon which a carafe, holding a bottle of champagne, sat. As Jensen came into the room, closing the door behind himself, Misha slid the robe off, revealing, as it fell to the floor, that he was naked underneath. Jensen eagerly allowed his eyes to run up and down the lithe body, as Misha poured a glass of champagne.

“Come, sit down,” Misha directed him to the chair by the table. Jensen enthusiastically obeyed, and Misha placed the champagne in his hand, then slid to his knees and unzipped Jensen’s jeans, pulling them, and his boxers, down to his ankles.

“I know that today wasn’t the most fun day for you. Let me make it up to you.”

Misha moved his head forward, and Jensen found it very hard to concentrate on drinking the champagne, particularly when Misha did that thing with his tongue that made him whimper with desire. When the whimpering became straight moaning, Misha stood up, grabbed lube off the table and started rubbing it all over Jensen’s erection.

“I took the liberty of… pre-preparing myself beforehand,” Misha said and then sat astride Jensen’s lap and-

“Oh!” Jensen gasped, feeling himself fill his lover’s tight, hot body.

“Yes?” Misha said.

_Damn, Misha…You’re so fucking incredible…_

‘I had a pounding headache before,” Jensen said, as Misha started moving up and down. “Seems to have died right down, now.”

“Good, all in the Misha service.”

By the time he was moaning his intense orgasm in time with Misha’s ten minutes later, his headache had completely disappeared.

“Right,” Misha said, climbing off him. “Shower? Then I thought we could explore around a little.”

“Misha, you could tell me to jump off the balcony right now and I’d try and be superman.”

“No, because we both know the only true superman is Christopher Reeve,” Misha said, pecking him on the lips.

*

Jensen wasn’t sure how they ended up on the coldest, rockiest beach on the edge of the Thames. He supposed it was romantic. At least there were no others about and they had to cuddle very close, to be warm. A few hours earlier, exploring around the admittedly shadier parts of London, Misha had an idea to eat fish and chips on the beach, what he presumed was a very ‘British’ past-time. They had finished the rather greasy, not too appetizing food, and were now watching the gentle lapping of the water, Misha’s back pressed against Jensen’s chest, with Jensen’s arms and legs wrapped around him.

“I was thinking about wedding gifts…”

“Hm?” Jensen rubbed his nose against Misha’s hair. It smelt of citrusy shampoo.

“I think we should go with what Jared and Gen did and give money to charity instead of asking people to give gifts.”

“I think that’s a good idea. We’ll give a list of charities and people can donate to them,” Jensen said.

“So, God does exist…” Misha said. “I guess I never really considered it.”

“Oh, I knew he existed. I just never considered that he would have a sister. I’m still getting my head around that. And Dean actually exists. As well as Castiel. Of course, your parallel Misha is a friggen angel. Figures.”

“I _am_ very angelic.”

“You are,” Jensen said, rubbing his face in his hair, once more.

“Are there are other parallel universes? There must be. Maybe there’s one where I’m a demon.”

“Well the only thing I know for sure is that I am amazing in every one of them.”

Misha laughed. “True that,” he turned his head back to face Jensen and they exchanged tongues for a while.

“With the knowledge that we’re playing real people, how long can this go on?” Misha asked, turning back, to face the water, once more. “What do we do when Supernatural stops filming?”

“What do you want to do, gorgeous?”

“I was thinking…” He laughed a little, self-consciously. “Of course, try and find other acting work but also… maybe I could be like Ronald Reagan or Arnie.”

“Politics? Actually, that does make sense. I’ve been thinking… well, I’ve been thinking for a while now maybe I should be getting into ocean conservation more.”

“That’s a great idea. You could be a spokesperson, get the word out there.”

“It’s so important, especially considering how much of this planet is ocean. Anyway, it’s just an idea of mine.”

Jensen?” Misha turned to face him, again, blue eyes locked on his green. “It’s crazy. We’ve been together what four years? Five years? I still get little butterflies in my stomach, whenever I look at you.”

Jensen found he could stare at Misha for hours, relishing his own lovesickness.

“Me too, beautiful. Me too.”

Both leant in at the same time, pressing lips together before Misha spun his entire body around to face Jensen, both falling back onto the sand.

*

Jensen opened his eyes, to almost blinding white light, which shone through the cracks in the hotel room door.

“Misha!” Jensen shook the arm that was draped over his chest. “Misha!”

Beside him, Misha’s face was relaxed with peaceful slumber. Not wishing to disturb him, Jensen tenderly plucked the arm off his chest and slid out of bed, walking to the bathroom to pick up the bathrobe hanging on the hook inside and covering his naked body with it, before opening the door-

-to a road, surrounded by forest, the impala parked directly in front. Without even questioning a hotel room door opening to a road that he didn’t even recognise, Jensen stepped out of the room, opened the passenger side door and slid inside.

“Seat belt,” Chuck, seated in the driver’s side, smiled at him.

As he placed on the seatbelt, Jensen realised that this wasn’t Chuck. Rob, in this world, at least, had brown eyes. This man’s eyes were more of a pale blue.

“So, I just wanted to explain what happened,” Chuck said, as he started the engine, released the handbrake and then started to cruise down the winding track. “My sister was, indeed, planning to destroy every universe that I’d created. Dean from the parallel world planned to activate a bomb inside of himself to destroy her. She was onto him, though and decided to forgive me, after all. So, Dean survived to fight another day. I then disappeared a while, to sort somethings out with her.”

“You’re… you’re god?” Jensen asked, feeling rather numb.

_Because, sure, why not?_

“So yes, Dean saved the universe. Well, all universes. Of which there are forty- two. You should know that there is only one Dean Winchester though, as well as one Sam Winchester and all the angels only exist in that one universe. There are, however, forty other Jensens and Jareds and Mishas… well thirty-six Mishas. There are four Russian Castiels named Dmitri. But, essentially, the same person. They even all look the same! You seem stunned. That’s okay, it usually takes a while.”

_No, no this can’t be true._

“Now, I’ll admit, I say I don’t play favourites, but I do. I mean, come on, I’m going to prefer a Gandhi over a Hitler, aren’t I? Although the ones that lose their way are always the most disappointing…” He frowned, quiet a moment. “So, any questions? I know you think this is an odd dream. Anyway, so pretend that this is real. If you were to ask god a question, what would it be?”

_Fine, I’ll play along._

“Is there an afterlife?”

“Certainly! But I won’t tell you any more. Wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise.”

“Why… why is there so much evil in the world?”

Chuck expelled air through his teeth. “You humans always ask the exact same question. Because without choice what was the point of me creating you, to begin with? I used to step in and it just created more harm than good. With Virgil and Sam and Dean crashing into your world… well, that was the first time that has ever happened- a person going into a parallel universe. It didn’t seem fair for Virgil to kill all the ones from that universe, so I righted it. Unfortunately, then he got the idea to right what _he_ thought were wrongs. Free choice, you see. You should know that he died, not long after returning to the other world. One of Crowley’s demons got him. Crowley was not too happy about that, I can tell you. Okay, I’ll admit, I was a bit biased, there. I happen to like every iteration of Misha. Every one of the forty-two have a level of goofiness and sweetness that I think is just lovely. So, with that in mind, Metatron convinced me to bring him back, as well as Eric and Robert. This is your stop.” He pulled the car over and opened the door. “Be at peace.”

Feeling as though he’d been whacked hard in the head with a piece of wood, Jensen opened the car door and stumbled out-

And jolted awake. He could feel Misha’s warmth against his back, his arm slung over his chest. Jensen lifted the arm and kissed the back of his hand.

“Weird, dream, Misha. Weird dream.”

Misha murmured and kissed the side of Jensen’s neck.

“No couldn’t be true, couldn’t…” Jensen allowed Misha’s arm to flop around his chest, once more.

He closed his eyes and fell back into a dreamless sleep.

*

On stage, Misha was telling an anecdote about filming; the time when, off camera, Jared farted during a season eleven kissing scene between him and Jensen, thus distracting both of them. Jensen found himself zoning out. He’d heard that anecdote plenty of times before. As Misha spoke, his eyes alive with good humour, Jensen allowed himself to be entranced by his fiancé’s beauty, focusing on his pouty lips, his even white teeth. He thought about that morning, when Misha had spoken at great lengths as to how he could get his ocean conservation idea underway. Later, at the signing table, Jensen had started to feel a little overwhelmed by the loud and busy line before him. Misha had simply reached across and stroked the top of his hand, smiling at him. That was enough, to calm him down.

The entire room, including Jared, on the other side of Misha, erupted into laughter. Jensen continued to stare at his life partner, a goofy smile plastered about his lips.

_Forty-two versions but only one is as sweet and wonderful as this one._

The laughter died down and another girl came to the microphone.

“What do we have to look forward to in season twelve?”

“Well, we’ve already had god so it’s only going to go downhill from here,” Jared said, laconically.

“We’ll have to set up some more devil worshipping on set,” Misha grinned. “That was actually all fake, by the way, made up by the producers to bring more ratings on. Not that we needed it, at the time…”

“That’s because everyone wanted to see all the Destiel of that season!” The girl said, to cheers from the audience.

“You three have been together now for a long time,” this time a man came to the audience microphone. “And it looks like you have a great time in filming.”

“Oh, we hate it,” Jared said. “Pranking each other. Laughing and joking around. It’s terrible.”

“Oh yes, it just makes me want to vomit, having to spend every day working with my good friend here,” Misha indicated Jared. “And the most beautiful, sweetest man in the world,” he then took Jensen’s hand.

“Jensen, anything to add here?” Jared asked. “Or are you going to continue to stare at Misha with that dopey, loved-up look on your face?”

“Well, to begin with, I’ll admit, we weren’t exactly close. I’m being honest. Lots of reasons for it. Mainly because I was a self-centred ass. But now, yes, we have a great time. Jared is funny and actually quite sweet. He’s like the brother that I never had. I just love him to death.”

“Thanks, Jensen. I love you too,” Jared said, looking genuinely touched.

“And Misha… Misha Misha…” Jensen leant forward and whispered in his ear. “I’m not going to appease your ego by telling you right now, in front of hundreds of people, that I find you unendingly beautiful and sweet and smart and funny and kind and goofy. No, I’m not going to tell you that I am deeply in love with you and I can’t see that ever changing.”

Misha turned his head to face him. “Jensen, I…” He whispered. “God, I love you.”

_Well, I suspect Chuck would be pleased to hear that._

Not caring any more about the ones watching, Jensen cupped his face and they tenderly lapped tongues, to the loud cheers, claps and stamps of the audience. They released and Jensen took a moment to admire Misha’s glowing, smiling face, before turning back to the audience.

 “Yes, we have a great time filming. Bring on season twelve!” Jensen said.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
